Coming Home
by Kelcor
Summary: This is my take on how Dean's escape from hell could go down - or up?. I know this tag has been done a million times over but I had to post it. Please R&R. Rated T. Hurt Dean! Protective Sam! REWRITTEN!
1. Come Hell or High Water

_A/N Okay, peeps, sorry about this. I decided to rewrite this story. Most of it is the same but I added some brotherly moments, WeeChester/TeenChester moments, etc. I think it's more enjoyable, but if you don't want to read it all over again, you'll still get the ending when I post it later today. Each chapter is complete, so I will be posting them throughout the day and the final will be posted this evening before the premiere - depending on which channel you watch it on and what time zone you're in, of course. Anyway, my apologies again but the only way I was able to find my way around my writer's block was to make a few changes. Forgive?? Please?? _Kelcor

_2nd A/N Also, for those who don't want to have to read through the whole thing again, just start at Chapter 6, as that's where most of the major changes begin. _Kelcor

CHAPTER ONE - Come Hell or High Water

Iron chains were hooked into his flesh, his own weight adding to the insurmountable amount of pain the chains were inflicting on him. And the heat! It was not only stifling but unbearable. Every time he took in a breath to scream, it felt as if his insides were on fire - and, who knows, maybe they were… this was HELL after all.

There was no concept of time, so Dean had no idea how long he had been hanging there before the demons decided to begin their own kind of torture. They clawed at him. They burned him. They bit him. The pain was excruciating. He wanted to die but knew that wasn't possible, because he wasn't alive to begin with.

After enduring what seemed like years worth of anguish, Dean finally shut down and hid inside his head. Unfortunately, his new caretakers were not going to allow the escape, temporary as it may be. While some of them continued tearing at him with their claws and teeth, others ignored his body and attacked his mind, instead.

* * *

The man entered the gates of Hell with surprising ease... after all, each of the precautions which had been put in place were used to keep souls from getting _out..._ no one was really concerned about someone trying to get _in. _Because, no one in their right mind would ever try to enter into those fiery depths of their own accord... except for maybe him. Oh, he wasn't crazy. He had all his wits about him. But, when a young man is in the worst pain imaginable - and then some - nothing, absolutely _**nothing**_, could keep his father from surpassing any obstacle in his path to get to him... to _**save **_him!

* * *

Where Dean ended up was dark and cold. The cold was a nice change. The dark? Not so much. Dean had never been afraid of the dark before. There were even times when he had cherished it. That wasn't the case anymore because here there was no moon to shed its meagre light, no stars to twinkle at him from light years away. The darkness here gave an all new definition to the term. Here it was an oily blackness that no light would ever be able to penetrate. Here the darkness had what seemed to be a syrupy substance to it, like molasses, yet it didn't hinder his movements at all, which made him believe the substance was a product of his imagination.

A form evolved in front of him, bringing with it an eerie glow that melded with the darkness but still didn't seem to penetrate it. He soon came to realize the form was that of his mother. She was just as he remembered her. Eyes full of love. A smile brighter than the sun - a sun he hadn't seen in so long he'd almost forgotten what the comparison actually meant. She reached out to him and he gratefully took her hands, gasping with surprise and fear when she squeezed his fingers hard enough to make his knuckles grind together. When he looked up at her in confusion and pain, he noticed, with a growing dread, that her eyes had turned black. Her smile morphed into a hideous sneer. Dean pulled away from her with such force, he fell to the floor. "No! Please, God, no!"

Mary spoke to him, in his mother's voice but with a coldness that had never been there before. _God can't help you down here, Winchester. You're __**ours**__ now._

His father appeared next to her. _You were nothing more than a soldier to me. Someone to watch over Sammy, my only __**real **__son. _

"That's not true," Dean said, trying to hide the whimper in his voice but not quite succeeding.

_You were just a means to an end, Dean. Why do you think your mother and I had two kids? You know what they say, 'If at first you don't succeed…' _This voice, too, was the one Dean remembered, though barely. His time down here was making him forget everything and everyone that was ever important to him. He fought to hold on to the memories - to his humanity! - but he knew that fight could only go on for so long.

Then Sammy appeared between John and Mary. . _I'm so glad you're out of my life for good. Now, I can get on with my life without having to listen to you constantly trying to tell me what to do. I don't need your protection, anymore. And, let's be honest, that's all you were ever really good for. I am finally able to fulfill my destiny. _His eyes turned black and he looked down on Dean with utter hatred.

"No-o-o-o!" Dean cried. He jumped to his feet and ran as fast as he possibly could, all the while hearing the three people he loved most in the world laughing uncontrollably… at him. _Did you really think we could ever love a pathetic loser like you? _

He stumbled a few times but each time he quickly picked himself up and continued his search for safety. Finally, he found a large, formidable looking door and, although he was unsure if God would even hear him from this far away, he prayed fervently that this would be the sanctuary he was seeking. After fumbling for a moment or two with the knob, he finally opened it and threw himself inside, slamming the door closed behind him.

The room was completely white - floor, walls and ceiling. It seemed to give off its own light. Not eerie this time, though. It was warm. Comforting. There were no lurking shadows, no darkness waiting to swallow him whole.

Dean finally felt safe, until a loud noise sounded from beyond the protective threshold behind him. He spun around to see the door shaking with the force of insistent pounding. He ran into a far corner and crouched down into it, facing the wall. He wrapped his arms around his head, trying desperately to block out the noise and, more importantly, the voices.

A few moments later, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He flinched away, despite the unmistakeable gentleness of the touch. "Son?"

A word that Dean had once longed to hear made him whimper in defeat. "Please. Please, stop."

"Dean. It's me, son."

He tried to push himself further into the corner but was unable to get any closer. He felt a hand on each shoulder now, turning him around. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Come on, Dean. Look at me. Please? It's dad."

Dean shook his head emphatically. "No. No, you're not him. You're just messin' with my head," he added, frantically hammering his skull with his fists. "Get outta my head!"

John took his eldest son's wrists in his hands, gently but firmly pulling them away from their target. "Stop it, Dean. You're gonna hurt yourself." The older Winchester smiled sadly when Dean offered a humourless chuckle at this statement. "Yeah. I suppose that is kind of a moot point right about now, isn't it?"

Dean finally looked up at the man standing before him, afraid to believe it was really his father, yet silently pleading that it was. Seeing the question in his son's eyes, John placed a hand on the side of his face, cupping his jaw in his palm. "Yeah, son, it's really me," he confirmed gently. He watched the internal war as his eldest scrutinized him, carefully weighing his options. Finally, John saw something close to belief register in his eyes and a single tear slid down his son's cheek. He pulled Dean into a strong embrace. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I never meant for any of this to happen. I'm gonna get you outta here. I promise."

Dean abruptly pulled away from his father and forced himself to his feet, disbelief shining in his eyes once again. "No. This is a trick. You're playing with me again."

"Dean -- ", John began, also standing, reaching for his son.

"No. There's no escape from this place. That fact was proven to me a long time ago," Dean whispered, taking a step backwards. He stalked away, then spun to face John once again, a mixture of anger, pain and desperation in his eyes. "You're not my father. You're one of **them**! You want me to believe so that you can crush me again. I won't let you. I won't."

John sighed, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. "Just stay strong, son. I'll be back," he vowed solemnly.

Dean locked eyes with the other man and that's when it hit him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something there that told him that this really _was_ his father. He tried to speak but the sudden lump in his throat refused to let his words seep passed.

"I promise to come back, Dean. Just stay strong. You hear me, son? Stay. Strong." Those were John's final words before disappearing.

"No," Dean was finally able to whisper, but it was too late. He was alone again. "Don't leave me."

* * *

"Get your hands **off** my boy!" The voice roared into the cavernous depths, startling the demons for just a moment. Unconcerned, they quickly resumed their games of torture on the most exciting addition to their world - the young man who was responsible for many of them being here. "**I said, get your hands ****off****... ****my****... ****boy**!" John repeated, raising his voice even more to be heard over the cacophony of his surroundings.

_Your powers won't work down here, John._

"Is that so?" The older Winchester's features were lined with a grim determination. He glanced down at the murky depths below. "Well, I'm somehow able to keep myself from falling through these chains, aren't I? Must be doin' something right."

A demon launched itself onto his back, snapping at his neck with its teeth. John grunted with the effort as he reached back to grab the demon's head between his hands. With a resounding CRACK he snapped its neck and allowed it to fall between the chains it had been hovering over and disappear into the smoky darkness beyond.

Another demon rushed at him but John pulled a knife out of his waistband and used the demon's momentum to thrust the blade deep into its chest, until it protruded out the other side. He pushed the worthless being off the specially designed metal and watched as it too fell into the fiery depths.

Most of the other demons retreated, their instinct for survival apparently outweighing their instinct to feed... and torture. But, one remained. Its skin was a pinkish/red hue, its teeth still salivating from its time with Dean. John could still see his son's blood dripping from its chin, a sight that made his own blood boil.

"You know," John quipped, as they turned in a slow circle, never taking their eyes off each other, "you really should use a higher SPF."

The demon sneered at him but said nothing.

"Come to think of it, all your really missing is the horns and tail... oh, and the trademark goatee... then you'd look like a true stereo typical demon. You know, as opposed to the piss ant that you really are." He glanced quickly at his son, spread eagle amongst the chains. His heart broke at the sight. He quickly returned his gaze to his soon-to-be-dead opponent. "You're going to pay for what you did to him," John promised, anger flashing in his eyes with a ferocity that would give the fire and brimstone below a good run for its money.

He quickly dodged when the demon launched itself at him, teeth gnashing, claws swiping the air. As they both spun to face each other, it propelled itself forward again. This time, John swung the knife in mid-dodge, plunging the blade of it into the demon's back... giving it that one extra twist for good measure.

"You really shoulda left my boy alone," John whispered menacingly in its ear before shoving it forward into the abyss that waited below.

With the path now clear, John approached Dean and placed a hand gently on his forehead. After surveying the damage - the scratches, the cuts, the welts, the gaping wounds - he leaned down and whispered in his son's ear. "I'm gonna get you outta here, Dean. Remember, stay strong!" Without another word, he wrapped one arm around his son's waist, and waved the other over the chains hooked into Dean's shoulders and torso. The chains fell free and John pulled his eldest against his chest, then used his other arm to deal with the chains in his legs. Once they fell away, as well, he slipped his arm beneath Dean's legs and lifted him into his arms. Pausing for only a second to place one soft kiss in the spiky hair beneath his chin, John began the long journey home.

* * *

Sam stumbled into his motel room and collapsed fully clothed on one of the beds. His brother had been dead for a month and he still couldn't bring himself to get a room with just one bed. After that fateful night, he hadn't been able to continue hunting. He'd promised Dean that he would but he just couldn't bring himself to keep that promise… not yet, anyway. All he wanted right now was blessed numbness. Besides, he was afraid that if he did start hunting again, he would end up like he had when the Trickster had killed Dean all those months ago - and that would be an insult to his brother's memory and, most of all, to his sacrifice.

He fell asleep almost instantly and had the same nightmare that he'd had every night for the past 30 days. The same nightmare that each night he hoped, if he drank enough whiskey and tequila, wouldn't haunt him - but it always did. Once again, he saw the hell hounds attacking his brother. Once again, he heard his brother screaming in agony. And, once again, tears streamed down his face as he cradled his brother's lifeless body in his arms.

Sam sat straight up in bed, eyes wide and alert. He could hear the sound of rain pelting against the window pane but knew that wasn't what had woken him. He listened for any other sounds but all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing. Holding his breath, he listened again - and could still hear breathing. The realization came slamming down into his still inebriated brain, full force - he was no longer alone in the room. He yanked his… no, _**Dean's**_, dammit, it was still Dean's… bowie out from under his pillow and flicked the switch on the bedside lamp, in one fluid motion. His eyes widened in shock when he saw the man standing at the foot of his bed.

TBC


	2. Dream State

CHAPTER TWO - Dream State

_**Previously**: Then, it hit him. Sam realized he was no longer alone in the room. He yanked his… no, **Dean's**, dammit, it was still Dean's… bowie out from under his pillow and flicked the switch on the bedside lamp, in one fluid motion. His eyes widened in shock when he saw the man standing at the foot of his bed._

"Dad?"

"Yeah, Sammy. It's me."

Knowing this was probably a dream, and not caring one single bit, Sam jumped from his bed and rushed to his father, wrapping his arms around him tightly. "I'm so sorry, Dad! I tried to save him. I really did!"

John returned his youngest son's embrace, holding him close. "I know you did, Sam. It's okay."

Sam felt long repressed tears spring to his eyes. He leaned his head down, buried his face in his father's shoulder, and cried for the first time since Dean's death.

"Shhh. Sam. It's okay, son. It's gonna be okay."

"How can you say that, Dad? Dean is… he's…" Sam couldn't bring himself to say the words out loud. He felt his father attempt to disentangle himself from their embrace but wasn't ready for it to end yet. "I tried to find a way to get him out... to break the contract... but I failed! I failed him, Dad."

"Sam? Son, I need you to look at me. It's important."

Reluctantly, the youngest Winchester pulled away from his father and did as he was told, shamefully wiping the tears from his eyes and face. His eyebrows furrowed with confusion when he felt his father turn him around to face the empty bed beside his own… only to see that it was no longer empty.

"Dean!" Sam ran to his brother and knelt down next to him. He reached out a hand, intending to place it on his brother's cheek but was afraid that if he did that, it wouldn't be real... **Dean** wouldn't be real. He looked at his father, searching his eyes for answers. "How did you get here?"

John sat down on the edge of the bed, placing one hand on Sam's shoulder and the other on Dean's arm. "Through your dreams, Sammy."

"No! Dammit, no! Not again!" When he started to stand up, his father grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him back down to look him in the eye.

"Son. Listen to me. This _is_ a dream, but when you wake up, Dean will still be here."

Sam looked at John with a mixture of shock and disbelief - along with a look of need… the need to _**believe**_ what his father was telling him. "I don't understand," he finally managed to say around the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Something will be on your nightstand, Sam. You'll know what to do with it. Your brother needs you. Now, more than ever."

"But, how did you...? Bobby and I... we burned his... his... body," Sam said, forcing the last word out.

"I can't explain it to you, Sam. I've already broken enough rules by bringing him here. If I break any more, I may not be allowed back," he said, glancing upwards.

Sam finally lowered his hand onto Dean's forehead and breathed a sigh of relief. It may be a dream, but his brother was warm and solid beneath his touch. He knew he should wake up but he was afraid that, despite his father's words, Dean wouldn't be there when he opened his eyes. The thought of losing his brother again crushed him, so he tried to make this 'dream' last as long as he possibly could. He looked back up at his father.

"You mean, you're up _there_ now?"

"Hey! Don't look so surprised. Turns out, I was doing His work," he shrugged dismissively. "Who woulda thunk it? Anyway, He found it in his heart to forgive me for the rest. That _is_ what He does, after all."

Sam let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, that's what I've heard."

John placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, serious once again. "I need you to wake up now, and save your brother. I managed to heal his body on our way back here, but his mind is another story. I tried but you're the one he really needs."

"Dad, he still needs you. He loves you so much. We both do."

"I know, son. I love both of you, too. More than you could possibly know. But, I've come to realize that you and Dean have a special bond that I could never share with either of you. An _unbreakable_ bond. He needs that bond now, son. He _**needs you**_. Whatever you do, don't let him shut you out."

Sam nodded resolutely. "I'll save him this time, dad. I promise."

"I know you will. But, Sam, you have to understand, it'll be a long road to recovery and Dean will fight you every step of the way. That's something about your brother that I fear will never change. And, it's my fault. I know that now. But, I'm going to make up for those mistakes. Starting now," John said. He looked upwards again, listening. Sam couldn't help but follow his line of sight. "I have to go now, son."

The youngest Winchester's eyes darted back to his father. "No! It's too soon. Don't go yet."

"I have to, Sam," he said, standing and pulling Sam up with him.

"Dad --" _I'm sorry for all the things I said while you were alive - all the things I __**didn't**__ say. I'm sorry for all the arguments. I'm sorry… for everything._

"I know, Sammy. Me too," John said, as if reading his son's mind - maybe he had. He gave his son one more heartfelt embrace, whispered "Remember the present," in his ear, then disappeared.

"I love you, dad."

* * *

When Sam's eyes flew open, the first thing he saw was the plain, white ceiling of the motel room. He fought the impulse to turn his head. He fought the insurmountable urge to look at the bed directly to his left. He fought these things not because he didn't want to see his brother alive, but because he was afraid that he wouldn't. He was terrified that it was all just a game. Like something the Trickster would do. Play with his head and, in this particular case, his heart and soul. Sam knew that, if his brother wasn't there, he would be crushed beyond recognition. But, he also knew, that he had to look - he had to _know _if Dean was alive.

He bit his lip and slowly, deliberately, eased his head to the left, not even realizing that he had squeezed his eyes shut until he had to open them to see if Dean was truly there. Sam felt a tear slip from his left eye and ease its way down to his pillow as, for the first time since his brother's grisly death, he smiled. And, this wasn't a half smile, either. No. This was a full on toothy, dimple-filled, sparkling-eyes smile. His brother was lying in the bed. It hadn't been a trick as Sam had feared.

Without wasting another moment, Sam jumped from under his blankets and rushed over to his brother, bumping the nightstand slightly with his knee. He immediately cupped Dean's face with his hands, ran his fingers through his hair, held his hands, all as one final test that his big brother was really there… and he was! Dean was home! The younger Winchester laid his hand on Dean's scalp, using his thumb to massage small soothing circles on his forehead. His breath caught in his throat when his brother leaned into his touch, just as he had so many times before when he was sick and feverish, or just too plain exhausted to pull away from the comfort his little brother was offering. Sam felt his eyes well up and let the tears fall, knowing that every single tear was a happy one because his brother was finally back where he belonged… with him.

After a few moments, Sam remembered his father's words and looked over to the nightstand. Illuminated by the glow of the digital alarm clock was a small baggy, about one centimeter wide by two centimeters long. He turned on the light and examined the contents more closely. Dream root. He looked over at his brother and was able to see that his eyes were moving back and forth beneath the lids. It wasn't just normal Rapid Eye Movement, either. Dean's eyes seemed to be moving so fast that Sam was afraid they would soon free themselves from their imprisoning sockets and roll across the pillow and onto the floor. Sam watched as his brother's head began thrashing from side to side on the pillow.

The younger Winchester ran to the bathroom and filled a cup with water; he then returned to his brother and plucked a hair from Dean's head, wincing as he did so because he didn't want to cause him any more pain - regardless of how small that pain may be. He dropped the hair into the glass of water and followed it up with the dream root. Sitting down on the bed next to Dean, he took his brother's hand firmly in his own. Then, after gulping the concoction down, Sam waited patiently for the drug to take effect.

He remembered how the other times he and Dean had been under the Dream Root's influence, they hadn't even known it had worked until something weird happened. Like noticing that it was raining upside down. Or, seeing Dean's heart wrenching wish to have a normal life, encapsulated in one tiny picnic with Lisa. His brother had denied all knowledge of the dream, claiming to have never had it before, but Sam knew better. Sam knew his brother better than anyone - certainly better than Dean would ever be comfortable with.

"_Noooooo!"_

_The cry was so blood curdling it made Sam jump to his feet._

"_Dean?" he whispered, staring in the direction of the scream. It had come from outside the room. He glanced quickly at the sleeping figure in the bed._

"_Somebody help me!? Sam?"_

_Sam's heart stopped in his chest, then started again, picking up speed with each passing second. There was no doubt about it. The voice pleading for help was his brother's. He ran to the door and wrenched it open, almost pulling it off its hinges. What he saw wasn't the parking lot that had been there before. He saw large dark clouds, in fact, he was surrounded by them. He let his eyes wander over them, taking them in, trying to see past them, through them, but he couldn't. The clouds were all encompassing. He watched as they seemed to become electrified. Bolts of lightening blasted through them, yet didn't seem to touch them at all. It was all very surreal._

_Knowing that he couldn't help Dean by staying in the 'dream motel room', Sam ventured out into the cloud infested area. He wondered for a moment how the motel room could be in Dean's dream when his brother hadn't laid eyes on it before but quickly forgot about that when he heard the broken plea for help once again. He looked upwards and, this time, his eyes were able to see the source of the cry. In the distance, there was a small figure, lying amongst what looked like chains. Suddenly, Sam felt himself being brought closer to the figure, as if by some invisible force, and his fears were confirmed._

_The younger Winchester felt as if his insides were going to come up through his mouth when he saw that his brother was not simply cuffed to the chains… he was attached to them! They were protruding from his sides, his shoulders, his ankles, even his neck. Dean continued to cry out for him, apparently unable to see that Sam had arrived._

"_Saaaaammmmm!?"_

"_Dean! Dean, it's okay, I'm here now!"_

"_Saaaaaaaammmmmmmmm!? Where are you?? Please, help me!? Please??"_

_That's when Sam remembered that he was in Dean's dream, it wasn't real - yet Sam knew beyond a doubt that this had happened to his older brother - was probably still happening as far as Dean was concerned. He figured the best place to help him would be in his subconscious. Dean had always hidden his emotions there when he was alive… wait, no, he was alive now, too! Not dead! Alive! Focus, Sammy. Find his subconscious, and you'll find Dean. Sam wasn't entirely sure the last two thoughts were his own, it seemed to be very much like something his father would have said to him. God, dad, I wish you were here. No. Dad got Dean out of hell. The least **I** can do is save my brother from himself._

_Sam wandered through this new world, feeling somewhat like an awkward bystander, not to mention a peeping tom, seeing as this was his brother's deepest darkest secrets and he was seeing them without his permission. He pushed that thought out of his mind. His main priority had to be finding his brother, he couldn't allow himself to worry about Dean's 'personal space'._

_This dream walking stuff was undeniably weird, though. Sam seemed to be turning corners which weren't there, opening doors that didn't really exist. Soon, he came to a room that looked oddly familiar. When he gazed at the room's occupants, it became glaringly obvious as to where he was. Sam looked at himself pinned up against one wall. Dean was up against another. Standing in front of Dean was their father. Sam walked around to stand beside his brother, facing his dad, knowing what he was going to see before he even saw it… yellow eyes. 'You fight and fight for this family but the truth is, they don't need you… not like you need them.' _

_Sam's heart broke at the realization that Dean was still reliving this moment in his mind but, then again, Sam still had nightmares about it himself. _

_'Sam? He's clearly John's favourite. Even when they fight, that's more concern than he's ever shown you.' Hearing his father say those cruel, heartless - and, totally untrue - words to his older brother was torture for Sam, then and now. Even worse was the fact that Sam was pretty sure that Dean never really believed him when he told him that they were all lies. Which made him even more thankful for this second chance to prove to his brother, once and for all, how immensely important he is to those around him… especially to Sam. Suddenly, blood began pouring from Dean's mouth and several wounds opened on his chest and stomach. Unable to watch anymore, Sam left the room but made a mental note to talk to Dean about it - again - later._

_As he walked by several different scenes of his brother's all too eventful 29 years, Sam discovered that his suspicions about his brother's tendency to pretend nothing bothered him were all too true. He didn't stop to watch each scene though because he had a mission to complete - finding his brother. Besides, he was pretty sure that he had been present for most of the traumatic things Dean had had to endure, and had no urge to relive them._

_It seemed like he had been walking forever before he finally came to a door that looked different from all the rest. There were several locks on this one and it seemed to blend in more with its surroundings, as if trying to hide in plain sight - something Dean had tried to do all his life… hide without looking like he was hiding. _

_Sam tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge and he didn't have the keys. Then again, maybe he did. He closed his eyes and thought about how much his brother meant to him, how much he loved him. He thought about how Dean had practically raised him - bandaged the skinned knees, helped him with his homework, even told him about the birds and the bees (and what a fun conversation that had been!). When Sam opened his eyes again, the door was gone. Smiling, the younger Winchester stepped into the large white room and turned around just in time to see the door materialize again behind him. He looked around and saw Dean huddled in a corner, wearing the same clothes he'd been wearing the night he… the night the hellhounds had attacked._

"_Dean?" Sam asked, approaching his brother cautiously. Dean ignored him, keeping his face buried between his arms and the walls on either side of him. Sam placed his hand gently on the older Winchester's shoulder and felt him try to cringe away. "Dude, it's okay. It's just me. It's Sam." He felt his brother's body begin to shake beneath his touch._

"_No, no, no. Please, not again."_

"_Not again," Sam asked, crouching down next to him. "What do you mean, not again?" He quickly came to the conclusion that the demons must have made Dean think Sam was there before. They probably did the same thing with dad and mom, too. "Dean, you're safe. Dad got you out. You're home now." Sighing loudly when his brother still did not turn around, Sam decided to try another approach. He forcefully pulled his brother around to face him, cupping his face in his hands. "We don't have time for this, Dean," he said, doing his best to channel their father. "Look down at your right hand. Can you feel anything different?" Dean glanced down at his hand and saw that it was bent slightly, and there was an odd pressure against his skin, as if he was holding something. "Yes, Dean," Sam said, excited now as he saw the realization in his brother's eyes. "That's me. I'm holding your hand, man. And, I really need you to wake up and tell me that I'm girly, to call me a bitch, to tell me to lay off the chick-flick moments. C'mon, big brother, I need you to wake up."_

_Dean looked from his hand back up at Sam with a look of confusion in his eyes, but Sam was sure there was some recognition there, as well._

"_It won't make a difference, you know."_

_Sam whirled around at the sound of the new voice in the room but no one was there. "Lilith," he said, venom in his voice._

"_Aw, Sammy, you remembered. I'm touched."_

"_Dean is out of hell. Dad told me -- "_

"_Yeah, yeah, yeah. I was there. But, did you really think I would let my prized possession get away that easily? Do you have any idea how long I had been waiting to have your precious brother in my grasp. So, yes, your daddy may have gotten Dean out of hell but he didn't get me out of Dean. I'm still here and I'm gonna stay here. And, there's nothing you can do about it! Maybe I can't torture his body anymore, but I sure can torture his mind. Dean is still my toy and I'm not done playing yet!"_

"_No-no-no-no." Sam spun around to face Dean again. It looked like his brother had been following the conversation and Sam was able to see a bit of his big brother in those eyes again. But not enough. Not enough to defeat Lilith and wake up. The younger Winchester hauled his older brother to his feet and prayed that he wouldn't regret what he was going to say next - prayed that he would have a chance to make up for it. "Suck it up, Winchester," he said in his best 'dad' imitation. "It's time… To wake… Up." Sam's heart soared when Dean finally nodded his understanding._

"_Even if he wakes up, he'll still be mine. He'll be broken in so many ways, even you won't be able to put him back together again, Sammy."_

"_Yeah?" Sam replied, defiantly. "Watch me."_

TBC


	3. The High Cost of Wakefulness

CHAPTER THREE - The High Cost of Wakefulness

_Dean opened his eyes to complete darkness. His brother wasn't there. Sam had never been with him. The demons had tricked him again! How could he be so stupid? He was alone and always would be from now on... except for when the demons came for him again. But... wait... he could still feel his brother's hand in his... couldn't he? What was going on? He was so confused. If only he could see! 'Oh God, why does it have to be so dark?' _

Sam was completely overjoyed to see his brother's eyes open. His joy gave way to concern, however, when he realized Dean was burning up. "Just a second, big brother, I'll be right back." He reluctantly let go of his physical connection with his recently awakened brother and took an empty ice bucket to the bathroom to fill it with cool water.

_The familiar sensation in his hand, the only thing telling him that Sam might really be with him, was now gone. So, they had tormented him with feelings of home and now they took away the last playing piece. When was it going to stop? He couldn't take much more, he just couldn't! He was past caring when he felt his eyes overflow with the long held tears but couldn't help but feel a little ashamed as they made their way down his cheeks. 'Well, Sam's not here anyway, so who do I have to be strong for'?_

The younger Winchester returned with the bucket of water and a face cloth. As he soaked the cloth in the water, he glanced over at his brother and was surprised to see the tears coursing down his face. "Dean? Dean, what is it?" Wringing out the cloth with one hand, he placed the other on Dean's shoulder… and promptly pulled it away when Dean flinched in fear. "Hey," he said softly, slowly placing his hand back on his brother's fevered flesh, "it's just me. Sam." Getting no further reaction, Sam brought the cloth to Dean's face, washing away the tears and, hopefully, the fever.

_Dean felt someone or something touch him. 'No, no, not again. Please!' The feeling went away almost immediately but quickly returned. The older Winchester did his best to remain completely still. 'Maybe it'll go away if I ignore it.' Then he felt something cold slithering across his face. 'Oh God!' He again tried not to react but this was just too much. 'Get off me,' he cried into the darkness as he clawed at the thing on his face, trying desperately to remove it… or, even better, to kill it!_

Sam watched in horror as Dean clawed at his face. He dropped the cloth and grabbed his brother's wrists in his hands, trying to hold them away from his face. "Dean, stop it! You're gonna hurt yourself!"

_Something was holding his wrists, keeping him immobile. 'No. Let me go!' He frantically tried to free himself from whatever had a hold of him. But, then... something strange happened._

Sammy leaned forward to look his brother in the eye, thinking that maybe eye contact would do the trick. "Dean, listen to me. You're not in hell, anymore. Dad got you out…" his voice trailed off when he noticed the lack of recognition in his brother's fearful eyes. He waved a hand in front of the older Winchester's face. "Oh, man. You can't see me, can you? Oh, Dean, I'm so sorry, I had no idea." Then he realized that Dean wasn't reacting to his voice, either. A thought struck him. A horrible, terrifying thought. Sam reached out and picked up the alarm clock on the nightstand less than a foot away from his brother's head, and let it fall back on the hard surface with a loud THUNK! No reaction. Absolutely nothing. "Oh no! No-no-no-no!" He did the only thing he could think of to let his brother know that he was here - he pulled Dean forward and sat behind him, leaning him back against his chest. When Dean continued to struggle against him, Sam wrapped his arms around him, pinning Dean's arms against his chest. He knew that all he could do now was wait for his brother to recognize him with his other senses. He held on tightly, resisting Dean's frantic efforts to pull away.

_Dean felt himself being held. At first, he panicked, tried desperately to get free. But, then he realized that whatever, or whoever, was holding him wasn't hurting him. It was a different kind of hold. He felt an unmistakable wave of comfort washing over him. Dean decided to stop struggling for a moment and concentrate. That smell. It smelled like home. Not a place, though. A person. 'Sam? Sammy, is that you? Why won't you answer me? It doesn't matter. I know it's you! I know it. Thank you God. Thank you!'_

Sam finally felt Dean relax in his arms and released his brother's wrists. He was relieved when Dean turned slightly against him and cautiously returned his embrace, wrapping one arm around his little brother's right shoulder, burying his face in the crook of Sam's neck. But, why wasn't he talking? Dean was never this quiet. He couldn't see. He couldn't hear. What if he couldn't speak, either? _How can this be happening? Dad told me that Dean was healed. Wait. Physically. He told me Dean was healed physically. So, then, this must be something else – something inside Dean's head… Lilith! Oh, I am __so__ going to kill that bitch! _As he continued to hold Dean, Sam glanced down at the empty plastic bag which had once held the dream root. _I shouldn't have used it all in one dose. Why didn't I save some? _Suddenly, his phone rang and he jumped - in comparison to the silence in the room, the sound was like a cannon going off. He felt Dean tense in his arms at his reaction and began rubbing soothing circular motions on his older brother's back to calm him again. It seemed to be working as Sam quickly pulled the phone out of his pocket and opened it with one hand.

"Yeah?"

"Sam? You okay?"

"Yeah, Bobby, we… I mean... um... I'm fine," Sam stuttered, not wanting to face Bobby's disbelief right now, just wanting to enjoy the miracle of Dean's return.

"It's okay, son. I know what's happened. I'm on my way to you now."

"What? But how -- ?"

"You're daddy told me."

"He came to you, too?"

"Yeah, son, he did. And he said that you and Dean were gonna need my help. I should be there in about ten minutes. Get Dean ready to move out."

"What? But, why?"

"We need to get him someplace safe. Those bastards aren't gonna let him go that easily, Sam."

The younger Winchester's mind wandered back to when he was in his brother's dream, Lilith's words coming back to hang over him like a ticking time bomb... _'Dean is still my toy. And, I'm not done playing yet.'_

"Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, you're right, Bobby. We'll be ready when you get here."

After hanging up with Bobby, Sam disentangled himself from his brother and realized for the first time that Dean was completely naked under the covers - and, of course, he was. I mean, he was just carried out of hell by their father and Sam was pretty sure there wouldn't have been a Wal-Mart anywhere along the way. "Oh, man! You are so not gonna like this big brother, but I figure better me than Bobby, right?" Sam pulled himself out from behind the older Winchester and gave his brother's arm a quick squeeze, hoping that he would understand that it meant he would be right back. He ran out to the Impala and pulled his brother's duffel bag - something that he hadn't been able to bring himself to get rid of - out of the back seat, then returned to his brother's side, touching his arm lightly to let him know he was back. He yanked out all the clothes he would need so that it would be a quick process to get his brother dressed and ready to go before Bobby's arrival.

_Dean felt the comforting embrace end. He tried to scream. 'No! Don't leave me! Come back!' That's when he realized that he couldn't hear his voice. Why couldn't he hear himself? What the hell!? Then he felt Sammy's hand on his arm again and knew that Sam would figure things out. He let himself forget about his voice for a while. He just wanted contact with his brother again. However, a minute later, that changed and all he wanted was to be warm again. Why the hell was he so cold all of a sudden?_

Sam pulled back the covers and started pulling a pair of boxers up over Dean's legs. "Sorry about this, Dean. But, if it makes you feel any better, it's not my favourite moment either."

_The older hunter felt Sam's hands on his legs. He was pulling something up... 'Aw, HELL NO!' Dean reached down and grabbed at the fabric, tearing it out of his brother's hands, managing to pull the boxers up the rest of the way on his own._

A mixture of relief and joy coursed through Sam's veins. Dean was back. He was really back. He helped his brother put on the t-shirt and then pulled him into a sitting position, his feet resting on the floor, and guided his big brother's hands to the jeans. Dean pulled the jeans on but his fingers didn't have enough dexterity back to fasten the button fly. Sam knew his brother was already mortified and he didn't want to make things any worse. But, at the same time, if the jeans weren't fastened, they would just fall to Dean's ankles after two steps. Deciding on a compromise, Sam fastened only the two top buttons for him. He looked up and saw a small representation of the trademark 'Dean-smirk' on his brother's face. He returned the smile, then remembering Dean couldn't see him, Sam reached out and gave his brother's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Sorry, Dude. I shoulda known you could do it on your own."

_He didn't care how out of it he was, there was just no WAY he was going to let his little brother dress him! Okay, yeah, if the rolls were reversed, he'd do it for Sam, sure... but not the other way around! No freakin' way! He allowed Sam to help him with the t-shirt but he pulled up his jeans himself. His confidence wavered, though, when he was unable to fasten them. He was momentarily embarrassed by the fact that his brother had to help but that was quickly replaced with something akin to pride when he felt Sam's hand squeeze his shoulder. He instinctively knew what his brother was trying to say and produced what he hoped was his trademark cocky smile. 'Damn straight, Sammy!' _

A few moments later, a knock sounded at the door. Sam checked through the peep hole, then opened the door to let Bobby into the room. The oldest hunter smiled when he saw Dean and started to walk over to him but Sam stopped him, placing a hand on his arm and gently pulling him back a step. The younger Winchester turned his back slightly to his brother, knowing that he couldn't see or hear the exchange, but feeling the inexplicable need to shield him from it anyway.

"He can't see, hear or speak, Bobby," Sam said, tears suddenly filling his eyes. By not saying it out loud, it had almost seemed unreal. But, now that he had voiced his brother's condition, Sam felt his heart break all over again. "Lilith is still inside him, Bobby."

Bobby placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, at least he's alive. As for Lilith, we'll deal with her. Even if we have to perform a full-out exorcism, we'll get your brother back, Sam. I promise. You just have to stay strong for a bit longer… for Dean's sake."

_'Sammy?'_

Sam forced the tears back, wiping distractedly at the stubborn few that still remained. "Yeah, I know, you're right," he said, resolve back in his voice. "Let's get him out of here."

"Right," Bobby answered.

_'Sammy, where are you?'_

"Uh, Bobby? Where are we taking him?"

"Well, to my place, of course. You know anywhere else that has a devil's trap on the ceiling and a library full of ways to beat Lilith at her own game and put your brother back together again?"

Sam chuckled. "No, not really."

_'Sammy!?'_

Noticing movement from the corner of his eye, Sam pivoted to his right and saw that Dean was turning sightless eyes frantically around the room. "Oh, crap, Dean!" The younger Winchester instantly went over to his big brother and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Feeling Dean's sigh of relief beneath his hand, Sam made a mental note to be sure to be in constant contact with his brother... at least until his sight or hearing came back. "Sorry 'bout that, man," he whispered, even if for only his own ears.

_'Don't DO that. You scared me to death, Sammy,' Dean said, wincing at his choice of words._

Bobby chose not to comment, not wanting to intrude on the obvious brother-moment. Instead, he got right back to business as if nothing had happened. "We gotta go, Sam. You need help?"

"If you could just take our duffels out to the car, I'll take care of Dean." He paused a moment, then said, "Uh, Bobby? Do you mind if we leave your truck here and take the Impala? I'm kinda hoping a ride in his baby might be therapeutic for him."

"Sure, kid, no problem. I can come back for my truck later."

Sam gave him a sincere smile of thanks as he handed the older man the keys to the Impala. Then, as Bobby grabbed the duffel bags and headed out to the car, Sam leaned down slightly, hooked one hand beneath his brother's left elbow and placed the other one under his right arm. "Okay, big brother, I know you can't hear me but you gotta trust me, okay?" He pulled his brother to his feet and waited until his legs were steady before slowly leading him across the room to the door.

_'Wait, where are we goin'? I don't wanna go anywhere yet. Sam? Where are we going?' He felt Sam begin to lead him somewhere but he was scared. He didn't want to go anywhere until someone turned the freakin' lights on. How was he going to be able to protect Sam if he couldn't see his own hand in front of his face? 'No, Sam. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on.' _

After a few steps, Dean halted his progress. No matter how much Sam tried to pull him or push him forward, Dean stood as if cemented to the floor, a look of sheer determination on his face. A car horn blared outside, reminding the younger Winchester that time was of the essence. "Sorry, Dude, but you're not leaving me much choice here." He quickly leaned down, pressed his shoulder against his brother's mid-section and draped him over his shoulders. He felt his Dean struggle instantly but held on tight and rushed out to the car.

_Dean felt himself being lifted off the floor. 'What? No. Let me go. Put me down, Sam!' His brother ignored his protests, however, and he blushed with humiliation at the fact that his little brother was carrying him. The cold wind whipped at his face for a moment or so, then he felt Sam lower him off his shoulders, place him on a seat of some sort and sit down next to him. Their shoulders were touching but Dean was so pissed at what his brother had just done, he moved away from him as far as he could go, crossing his arms angrily._

Sam smirked at Dean's current mood. He had crawled into the back seat with him because he knew he had to remain close by until his big brother could see or hear him again. But, Dean had pulled away from him almost instantly and was sulking in the corner behind the empty passenger seat. Embarrassment and anger were better than sadness and melancholy in Sam's book. But he did feel badly for having been the cause of those emotions in his brother, they were just running out of time - he'd had no choice. He would have to remember to tell Dean that when he got his hearing back... oh, please God, let him get his hearing back. And his sight. And his voice. Please!

_When the car started, Dean instantly recognized the purring vibrations of his baby and he almost wasn't angry at Sam anymore... Almost! After a few minutes, the remnants of his anger turned to fear when he couldn't feel Sam close to him. 'Sammy?' he called, hating the fact that he needed that physical contact so badly but reaching out into the darkness nonetheless, trying to locate his brother._

Sam was staring out the window, watching the multitude of hayfields speed by, when Bobby muttered his name. Sam looked up and caught Bobby's eyes in the rear view-mirror. The oldest of the three used his eyes to direct the youngest to the figure huddled in the corner. As soon as he saw the searching hand, Sam reached out and grabbed it, holding it tightly in his own. Again, he felt Dean's relief pouring off him and his heart broke yet again for his usually unflappable older brother.

The younger Winchester jumped when the passenger side window imploded with a loud crashing noise, causing glass to fall all over Dean.

"What the bloody HELL!?" Bobby hollered from the front seat.

_The older Winchester didn't react to the sound of the crushing glass but he did react to it hitting him. Since it was making up for the loss of his other senses, his sense of touch was now stronger than it had ever been in the past. He jumped clean off the seat and landed closer to Sam, who pulled him the rest of the way until their wasn't even an inch between them. Okay. He was next to Sammy again. That's cool. Everything's cool, now. Wait. Something was grabbing at his leg. He caught a hold of Sam's arm, trying to stay with him, but whatever was pulling on his leg was trying to pull him away from his brother. 'No! NO!'_

Sam wrapped his arms under Dean's, then around his chest, trying desperately to keep his brother with him. "What's going on?" he called out to Bobby, trying to be heard over the roaring wind.

"They know we're up to something," Bobby yelled back. "They're trying to stop us before we can save Dean. They're trying to take him back."

"Well, drive faster!"

Bobby raised his eyebrows at Sam in the mirror, the incredulity clear in his eyes. "I'm goin' as fast as I can, Sam! You just keep your brother inside the car!"

_He kicked frantically, trying to get his leg loose, but whatever it was kept pulling him closer and closer to the window. Then it grabbed his other leg as well. Dean felt himself being hoisted into the air again but instead of being embarrassed, this time he was terrified. It wanted to take him back to hell. He knew that now. _

Sam tightened his hold around his brother's chest, pulling with all his might against the force that now had both of Dean's legs part way out the window. The younger Winchester was surprised to find that he was now sitting in the middle of the seat. _Damn! This thing is strong! _He suddenly realized that he was going to lose his brother again if he didn't do something fast. Then a thought occurred to him. "Bobby! Reach under the seat."

"What? Why?"

"Just do it! The sawed-off is there. Grab it and hand it back to me."

Bobby did as Sam told him, and again raised his eyebrows at the younger Winchester through the mirror as he handed the gun back to him without turning around. "Don't you know the risk you're takin' by havin' this thing up here instead of in the trunk, ya' idjit?"

"Now's not really the time, Bobby," Sam grunted, as he adjusted his grip to hold his brother with one arm and level the shot gun with the other.

"Good point," Bobby conceded.

BLAM! The shot tore through the window and, lucky for Sam, didn't hurt Dean's baby any more than she was already hurt. The rock salt didn't get rid of whatever had a hold of his brother, but it did weaken it. Sam yanked Dean's body towards him one final time and was relieved when the older Winchester toppled into his lap because he was now able to drape himself over Dean to keep the spirit or demon - or whatever it was - from getting another chance to take him away. Hooking one arm beneath his brother's legs, he pulled them away from the far window as well. In the end, Dean was practically curled into a ball on Sam's lap, with his knees bent and turned towards the backseat behind his little brother and his face buried in Sam's chest. The older hunter probably would have decked Sam if he'd had the chance, but he didn't struggle at all and that's how Sam knew his brother was once again unconscious.

TBC


	4. Brothers In Arms

CHAPTER FOUR - Brother's in Arms

By the time they got to Bobby's place, Dean had regained consciousness but, other than that, his condition hadn't improved. However, Sam was encouraged by the fact that it hadn't worsened, either. He was also relieved that his brother had decided to trust him and go where his little brother led him… or, he just didn't like the idea of being carried again. _Probably a bit of both,_ Sam had thought with a humourless smile.

Now, Dean was sitting upright in one of the beds - which was smack dab in the middle of a circle of salt, of course - in Bobby's guest room, with Sam ensuring he was sitting close by, a hand on his big brother's arm. The younger of the two stared at his brother forlornly, wishing there was something he could do to help him. Bobby had left them alone to go get his truck and a 'few odds 'n ends', as he put it. Sam wasn't sure what that meant but he figured Bobby would let him in on his secret once he returned.

_It had taken a while, but Dean finally recognized the scent of his current location… Bobby's. This place was like a second home to him… well, a third, actually. First was Sammy. And the Impala came roaring in at a close second. So, Bobby's place qualified as third. Not bad considering it took a lot for the older Winchester to feel comfortable enough to call **anyplace** home. Now, he was sitting in a bed - probably the bed he always slept in when he came here - and Sammy had his hand on his arm. Dean hated feeling vulnerable like this, especially around Sam, but he couldn't help it - physical contact with his little brother was the only way for him to know that he was still there. Knowing that he was safe… for now, anyway… Dean settled down further on the bed and closed his eyes. It had been a pretty gruelling day after all, and the ones before it had been substantially worse. _

Sam watched as the older Winchester curled on his side, facing Sam, and closed his eyes to go to sleep. He gave his brother's arm a firm squeeze to let him know he'd be right back and wasn't surprised when Dean's eyes flew open, waiting for the contact again. Sam grabbed a blanket off the other bed and draped it over his brother, quickly reaching underneath said blanket and taking Dean's hand in his own, rubbing soothing circles on the back of it with his thumb. He watched again as his brother's eyes closed and Dean fell into a semi-restful sleep.

After having a friend drive him out to retrieve his truck, and carefully avoiding any questions about how his truck had ended up two hours away, Bobby returned to his house with some extra supplies. When he entered the guest room, his heart warmed at the sight before him. Both boys were fast asleep, Sam sitting in the chair and Dean lying in the bed. Their heads shared the same pillow and Sam's hand was firmly clasped over top of his brother's arm. He knew both boys needed some well-deserved rest, so, instead of waking them, he went back downstairs and retreated into his study to do some research. What they needed was a plan but, first they needed more information. Since Sam understandably had other things on his mind, Bobby had no problem taking the weight of the research on his own capable shoulders. These boys were like family to him and he swore to John that he would protect them - with his own life, if necessary.

A few hours later, Bobby returned to the guest room and reached out to gently shake the younger brother's shoulder. Sam woke with a start, his eyes darting around until they finally took in his brother. The relief in his eyes was palpable.

"Yeah, he's still here, Sam," Bobby said, knowing full well the cause of the boy's distress. "It wasn't just a dream."

Sam smiled shyly, seemingly embarrassed by his momentary panic. "Sorry, Bobby."

"Nothin' to apologize for, son. Havin' your brother return from hell is quite a lot to take in, let alone believe. It's not exactly somethin' that happens every day, y'know."

Sam glanced out the window and saw the sun low in the sky. "How long did I sleep?"

Bobby shrugged noncommittally. "Few hours, maybe."

"So, what did you get," Sam asked, rubbing at his eyes and indicating the paper bags in Bobby's arm with his chin.

"Some medical supplies, just in case," Bobby began, handing one bag to Sam before continuing. "And, I also got something that you might be able to use to help that big brother of yours."

Sam looked up, his eyes glimmering with hope as he set the paper bag on the floor next to his feet. "Yeah? Please tell me it's -- "

He didn't have a chance to finish before Bobby pulled out a baggy similar to the one his father had left for him in the motel room - identical, in fact, right down to the contents it held.

"Dream root," Sam declared, breathing a sigh of relief as he took the small package from his friend. "Bobby, you're a God-send."

"No, I think your daddy took that role this time," the older man said, a humorous glint in his eye. "Who woulda thunk it!?"

Sam smiled at the fact that Bobby had just used the same phrase as John had in Sam's dream. He found himself wondering what John and Bobby had talked about in Bobby's own dream, but he figured that was a conversation that could wait for another time. He wanted to use the dream root right away but Dean appeared to be just sleeping right now and Sam didn't want to invade his brother's personal thoughts again just yet - not until it was absolutely necessary. He gently laid the drug on the bedside table and looked up at Bobby again.

"So, what do you think is happening?"

"I'm not sure, kid. But, I did do some research while you boys were sleepin'…"

"And," Sam urged, the look in Bobby's eyes pulling any sleep-induced haze from his mind.

"You're not gonna like it."

"Bobby, what?"

"The only way to get Lilith outta Dean's head is to do a full-out exorcism."

"Okay. We already knew that was a possibility. So, let's get Dean down to the Devil's Trap and get it over with."

"It's not gonna be that easy, son."

"Why? What aren't you telling me, Bobby?"

"If we do the exorcism now, then…"

Sam gave Bobby a look of impatience this time to urge him on.

"Then, Dean's current injuries won't heal," the older hunter finished, voice filled with regret.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that if we perform the exorcism now, Dean will stay like this for the rest of his life."

Sam jumped to his feet, started pacing across the room, then spun to face Bobby again. "We have to find another way, then."

"Sam -- "

"No! Bobby, Dean won't be able to survive like this, man. He's too independent. And, hunting would definitely be out of the question."

"Sam -- "

"He'd rather die than to live in this condition. He'll just see himself as a burden, no matter how hard I try to convince him otherwise. We have to -- "

"Sam!"

"What?" Sam asked, as if realizing for the first time that Bobby had been saying anything at all.

"Just calm down and listen for a minute, kid! We can still do the exorcism, get rid of Lilith forever… we just have to do something else first."

"What's that?"

Bobby pointed at the dream root lying forgotten on the bedside table. "You have to help Dean fight her inside his head and find a way to cure his injuries. Then, and only then, will it be safe for us to exorcise the bitch."

"Looks like I've got some dream walking to do, then," Sam said softly. He looked out into the hallway, then back at his brother. He couldn't leave him, he'd promised himself he wouldn't… and, in a way, had promised Dean, as well.

Reading the young man's facial expression, Bobby placed a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't I go get you some water to mix it into?"

"Thanks, Bobby."

The older hunter returned a few moments later with a mug of warm water and Sam plucked another hair from Dean's head.

"I hope we don't have to do this too many times. Dean'll be _pissed_ if he wakes up bald."

Bobby chuckled at Sam's attempt at levity - to be like his brother and lighten the mood during a very tense situation. He watched for a moment as Sam put Dean's hair and some of the dream root into the mug of water, absently moving the mug around in small circles to swirl the liquid around. Then, Bobby broke the silence. "Which sense are you gonna tackle first?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, you said that Lilith is in there. She's not gonna let you stay too long without some kind of interference. You need a game plan."

"You're right," Sam said, mentally kicking himself. "I should've thought of that."

"Sam, don't be so hard on yerself. You just want to get to your brother. It's completely understandable that you're not thinking too far ahead right now."

"Okay," the younger hunter said, clearly not convinced but not wanting to waste anymore time than absolutely necessary. "I think it would be best to try to repair his sight first so that he can at least see us and know that he's not alone."

"I'm not so sure, Sam. Wouldn't it be best for him to be able to hear us? So that we can give him instructions, let him know what's goin' on?"

Sam thought about that for a moment but then shook his head. "No. Because, if we're out of ear shot or sleeping, he'll think he's alone. This way, he'll be able to see us walk to the other side of the room or see me lying in the bed next to his when he wakes up. As for letting him know what's going on, we can always write it down and let him read it."

"I suppose," Bobby relented, then chuckled softly. "I'd better get a lot of pens ready… and you'd better be prepared for some intense writer's cramp."

The younger Winchester smiled dryly at this as he gently tugged Dean into a sitting position, propping him up against the headboard and placing a pillow behind his back. "Worse comes to worse, I'll just type it out for him on my laptop."

"You sure, you're ready for this?" Bobby asked, serious again. "It's been a really long day. Maybe you should wait 'til tomorrow, get your strength back first."

"No," Sam stated firmly. "Dean wouldn't wait if the roles were reversed. I gotta do this now, Bobby."

Sam settled himself next to his brother, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and pulling him close so that his head was resting against Sam's arm. After taking a deep breath, the younger Winchester quickly drank the dream root concoction and left Bobby to watch the fort while he was 'gone'.

* * *

_Once again, Sam was disconcerted with the vivid memories rolling around in his brother's mind. 'We're really gonna have to talk about this, big brother.' Returning his own mind to the task at hand, Sam looked for anything that could give him a clue as to what Lilith had done to Dean - and, how he could fix it before it was too late. He did his best to ignore the heart breaking scenes playing before him in each room he passed but it was difficult because most of them were pain filled memories of his own, as well… the only difference being the fact that Dean carried so much misplaced guilt along with them. _

_Finally, he came to the locked door again. He closed his eyes and thought about how much he loved his brother, how desperately he wanted to save him from this tortured existence. When he opened his eyes again, he was not surprised that the door was gone. Once again, he entered the room and, this time without hesitation, strode over to his brother who was still sitting in the corner but was now facing the door, a firm resolve present in his features. _

"_Hey," Sam said quietly._

"_Hey," the older Winchester replied. "I wasn't sure if you were coming back."_

"_Gotta save your sorry ass somehow."_

_Dean smirked at this but his eyes were full of sincerity when he said, "Thanks, Sammy."_

"_Anytime, big brother," Sam replied, sitting down next to him, shoulder to shoulder. "Brought you a present," he added, pulling out the Bowie that Dean had always kept within easy reach._

_The younger Winchester knew he'd done the right thing when, after gazing at it for a long moment, his brother took the knife, then looked up at him, his eyes shining with unshed tears._

"_You're welcome," Sam said, not needing to hear the words to know what Dean was thinking. After a moment of companionable silence, the younger of the two finally spoke again. "Dean, Lilith is here."_

"_I know."_

"_You remember that you're not in hell anymore though, right?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_But, you're not completely back, either. She took your sight, your hearing, and your speech," Sam told him. "I need you to fight. I need you to be my brother, again."_

_Dean took a deep breath and stood up. "Okay, Sam. But I don't think I can do it alone," he said, reaching his hand down and pulling Sam to his feet._

"_You don't have to. I'll stay here for as long as I can. But, even if Lilith manages to kick me out of your mind, I'm still in here," Sam said, placing his hand over his brother's heart._

_The older Winchester quickly swatted his brother's hand away. "You're such a girl, Sammy."_

_Sam smiled but continued because he knew that, despite Dean's bravado, he needed to hear what his little brother had to say. "Bobby and I are both waiting for you, Dean. You matter. Just remember that, okay. You matter to Bobby. And, most of all, you matter to **me**." He watched as his big brother's walls went down for the briefest of moments, showing Sam how much his words had really meant to him. _

_Clearing his throat loudly, Dean broke the awkward chick-flick moment. "Whaddya say we go kick some demon ass?!" He was relieved when Sam returned his smile. 'Damn, I've missed you, little brother,' he thought to himself._

"_Thought you'd never ask," Sam replied, knowing full well what his brother was thinking - because he was thinking the same thing._

TBC


	5. Figments of the Imagination?

CHAPTER FIVE - Figments of the Imagination?

_As they travelled together through Dean's mind, it almost felt like old times but Sam was still more than slightly shocked when he felt a sawed-off shotgun in his hands. _

"_My dream. My rules, Sammy," Dean said with a cocky grin._

_Sam smiled at this 'normal' Dean moment and then they trudged on, searching for the solution to his big brother's lack of sight in the outside world._

_It wasn't long before they came to an all too memorable scene from their lives. Sam's heart tightened at the sight of him holding a shotgun on Dean._

"For once in your life, just shut your mouth."

"What're you gonna do, Sam. The gun's filled with rock salt… it's not gonna kill me."

_Sam squeezed his eyes shut, unable to watch the scene play out , but then forced them open again. If he was going to help Dean get past these memories, they had to endure them together... again. He watched in horror as 'memory-Sam' pulled the trigger and 'memory-Dean' flew through the door and into Dr. Ellicott's hidden room._

"No, but it'll hurt like hell."

_The younger Winchester glanced over at his brother, seeing the torture in his features as the memory assaulted his senses once again. When he turned back to the scene, memory-Sam was leaning over his brother, sneering down at him._

"That's the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic, like you."

_The scene seemed to fast forward, then:_

"Do you hate me that much? You think you can kill your own brother? Well, then go ahead. Pull the trigger. Do it!!"

Click. Click, click, click.

"_Dean," Sam began, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. _

"_C'mon, Sam. We got work to do," Dean interrupted, refusing to make eye contact with his brother._

_Next, they walked past their childhood home. A four-year-old Dean was standing in front of it holding his baby brother in his arms, looking up at the flames bursting through the window of the nursery. The little boy was paralyzed with fear, having no idea what to do next. Then that decision was thankfully taken away from his tiny shoulders as his father ran out of the house, sweeping both Dean and Sam into his arms. _

"I gotcha."

_That was all the older man said as he pulled his boys away from the growing flames. Behind them, the fire exploded out into the night air, feeding on the oxygen, using it to engulf the rest of the house in its searing heat._

_Sam stopped for a moment to gaze at the vulnerability of his little-big brother, leaning against their father's arm. Fire trucks all around them. Baby Sam being cradled in John's arms. Even then, Sam had been getting the small amount of comfort his father had to give. Not because John hadn't cared about Dean - he had loved them both equally. He had just made the mistake of assuming that since Sam was the baby, he needed his father's attention more than Dean did. That assumption had carried on throughout the years until John had died, sacrificing his own life for the son that he finally realized needed him more than either of them had been willing to admit._

_At that moment, Sam turned to face his brother, to at long last tell him how wrong the demon had been. To force the older hunter to listen, to hear the facts - that he was needed and loved. Unfortunately, Dean was nowhere to be seen. _

"_Dean?" No answer. "Dean!" Still no answer. This had to be Lilith's doing. Sam did his best not to panic as he made his way through his big brother's subconscious with the solitary goal of finding said big brother and getting him back in one, complete, albeit somewhat broken, piece._

* * *

"_Sammy, are you sure dad was the one who got me out of hell?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_But how?"_

"_Fought his way to you, I guess. Said he might not be able to get back to where he'd been resting peacefully because of his actions."_

_Dean stopped and looked at his brother, his green eyes piercing. "What? Why would he risk that?"_

_Sam halted his own forward motion as he turned to face him, shrugging nonchalantly. "I guess he thought you were worth it."_

_The older Winchester gazed down at his feet but his eyes shot back up to his little brother when he heard the ruthless chuckle. Sam was looking down at him, anger and hatred in his eyes._

"_Dad's dead because of you, Dean. And, now, just a year after he finally found peace, he had to give it up..." he said, stepping forward so his face was inches away from Dean's. "Also, because of you."_

_Dean took a step backwards. "No. This isn't you. You're not Sam!"_

"_Of course, I am," not-Sam said, chuckling again. "You just don't want to believe what I really think of you."_

"_Lilith!" The older Winchester roared, looking up into the darkness. "It won't work this time!" Not-Sam dissolved into thin air and his chuckle was replaced by a laugh with a much more evil lilt to it. _

"_Oh, but Dean, you're so much fun to play with!"_

"_Well, I ain't your toy anymore, Bitch!"_

"_Oh, but you are, Dean. Parts of you are, anyway."_

_Dean was silent for a moment, then..._ "_What are you talking about," he whispered, afraid of the answer but still needing to know. _

_He watched in horror as a spotlight winked on, displaying another version of himself, sitting in a corner. His wrists were tied together in front of him and his eyes darted around fearfully. Dean stepped closer to the terrified form, trying to ignore the odd feeling the sight gave birth to in his chest. When he was a mere 2 feet away, his 'other-self' looked up at him… and Dean cried out in shock. His eyes were gone! Two gaping, bloody holes gazed up in his direction. The jagged edges of the skin around where his eyes should have been were a bold testament to the fact that the green orbs were not taken out carefully. They were **torn** from their rightful spots. He fell on his ass but still scooted back, away from the form huddled in the corner. Dean dropped his Bowie as his hands went to his own eyes, searching for reassurance that they were still there. _

* * *

"_Dean!" Sam called again for what seemed like the millionth time. He was really starting to get worried. Who knew what Lilith was making Dean believe in Sam's absence? With that thought in mind, Sam set forth with even more conviction, determined to find his brother. He did his best not to look at the little snippets of memories that he passed along the way but one in particular memory caught his eye, simply because although it wasn't exactly a 'happy' memory, it wasn't really painful, either. _

_He watched two young boys in a crappy motel room. One boy was a sixteen-year-old Dean, the other a twelve-year-old Sam. The younger Winchester had almost forgotten about this night and was surprised that Dean apparently still thought about it - come to think of it, each of the memories he had glimpsed thus far had featured Sam in a starring role. Something in the younger Winchester warmed and broke simultaneously at this realization. He blinked back the tears as he watched this current memory unfold in front of him…_

_Sam was laying on the bed, perspiration plastering his hair to his skull, making the usually strong and vibrant boy look frail and vulnerable. Instead of going out with friends, Dean had opted to stay home with his little brother. Various board games and a deck of cards lay discarded on the floor next to the bed. Dean glanced away from the book he was reading aloud and let his eyes fall on his brother, the green orbs filled with concern and sympathy. "How ya' feelin', Sammy?"_

"_Fine," Sam said weakly._

"_Dude, Dad's not here, okay?"_

"_So?"_

"_All I'm sayin' is, you don't have to pretend with me."_

_Sam seemed to think about that for a moment, then: "I hurt all over," he confessed softly._

_Taking pity on his kid brother, Dean did away with his 'No Chick-Flick Rule' and wrapped his arm around the too warm shoulders. "You'll be better soon, Sammy. I promise. Before you know it, you'll be eating cheeseburgers, chilidogs, fries, milksh --" He'd been trying to make the kid feel better but, instead, Sammy was lunging over the edge of the bed, doing his best to aim for the trash can before the vomit made it out of his mouth. Dean instantly leaned over, braced one hand against Sam's chest and other against his forehead. "Sorry, Sammy," he muttered, wincing with sympathy and regret. When Sam finally finished, he flopped back on the bed, panting from exertion. Dean absent-mindedly rubbed soothing circles on his brother's stomach, doing his best to avoid the twelve-year-old's gaze. "Guess I'm not very good at this, huh?"_

_To Dean's surprise, Sam grabbed his wrist with surprising strength considering the heat emanating of the kid's body. "Hey," he said, waiting until Dean finally locked eyes with him. "You're great at this, bro." Without another word, he curled up against his big brother again, then reached over to the other side of the bed, picked up the forgotten book and handed it to Dean. In his eyes was a silent plea for Dean to continue. So, they settled back on the bed, older brother reading to younger brother, while said younger brother fell asleep with his head on his big brother's chest…_

_After that, the memory rewound back to the beginning and played again. Sam smiled at the knowledge that not all of Dean's recollections were painful ones. _

_This time, when he began his search for his big brother, it was with a lighter heart - that is until he saw the cowering figure in the corner up ahead. He rushed forward, the lightness of his heart abruptly replaced with an inconceivable ache at the sight before him. No, it couldn't be. Please, God, don't let it be…_

"_Dean?"_

_Dean heard the voice but couldn't bring himself to look away from his 'other self''._

"_Dean!"_

_The older hunter watched as his little brother, mistaking the figure in the corner for him, dropped his shotgun on the ground and knelt in front of the form, pulling him into his arms with shaking hands. _

"_No-no-no-no. Dean, I'm so sorry! I should've gotten here sooner!"_

_Hearing the tears in his brother's voice pulled Dean out of his semi-catatonic state. He forced himself to his feet and stepped closer to Sam, being careful not to allow his eyes to rest on the eyeless figure next to him. He knew that this was his Sammy because only his Sammy would be so quick to hug him, to try to force all the pain away with physical contact. Dean had to confess that it usually worked… not that he would EVER admit that to Sam. The older Winchester just never really thought himself worthy of having the pain taken away. He most likely deserved any suffering that was dished out at him - Sam, on the other hand, did not. "Sam? Sammy, it's okay. I'm right here."_

_Sam looked up, wide eyed, then back at the 'other-Dean'. He quickly jumped to his feet and enveloped his big brother in the strongest bear hug Dean had ever experienced. Granted, the hunter hadn't really experienced all that many hugs in his lifetime but this one took the cake. However, although it did take some of the pain away, it was also causing a bit._

"_Sam? Can't… breathe…"_

_The younger Winchester immediately pulled away and quickly leaned down to retrieve the shotgun at his feet. "Sorry," he mumbled, almost incoherently._

"_It's okay, Sammy," Dean said, patting his little brother on the chest while keeping his other hand on his knee to keep his balance as he tried to get some air back into his lungs. Once he was able to breathe again, he glanced over at his 'other-self'. "What the hell... is __that__!?"_

"_I should've known as soon as I saw it," Sam admitted, slightly embarrassed. "But, all I could think of was you… in all that pain…"_

"_Sam?" Dean looked over and saw that Sam was once again staring at the eyeless figure in the corner. "Sammy," he said again, grasping his little brother by the forearms and pulling him a few feet away from the form that was holding his attention. He placed a hand on either side of his brother's face, forcing Sam to look at him. "Not me, remember? Now, what should you have known?"_

"_Huh?" Sam's eyes were finally focussing on his real brother so Dean released him, but the younger Winchester still seemed somewhat confused._

"_You started to say that you should've known something… what should you have known?"_

"_Oh, uh, that it was a physical manifestation."_

"_A physical what-now?"_

"_Manifestation. This is how Lilith has made it so that you can't see, Dean."_

"_Okay. So, how do we fix it?"_

"_I'm not sure."_

"_Well, think, Sammy. I can't stay like this. I just can't! I'd rather die… again," he added, wincing at the memory._

"_Wait. That's it, Dean."_

"_It is? I mean. Of course, it is," Dean said, visibly primping himself with the knowledge that he had come up with the solution. Then, confusion clouded his features. "And what, exactly, is __it__, Sam? You know, just so I can be sure you were paying attention."_

_Sam smiled down at the brother he had missed so very much over the past month and for a moment he was unable to speak. Then, Dean waived his hand in front of his face and he came back to the present moment._

"_We have to kill you," Sam blurted._

_Dean's eyebrows rose in blatant surprise. _"_Excuse me? I'm sorry, Sam, but I really don't think that's the plan that I came up with."_

"_What? No. No!" Sam exclaimed, realizing what Dean was thinking. How could he have been so callous? "No. Not you-you… the __other__ you... him-you," he continued frantically, pointing at the figure still huddled in the corner._

"_Oh. Okay… Damn if this isn't confusing the hell outta me!" Dean said, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He felt his brother's reassuring hand on his shoulder._

"_You okay?"_

"_Yeah, Sam, I'm good," Dean replied, more out of habit than truth but still causing Sam to laugh softly. 'Now, there's the laugh I know and love,' the older Winchester thought tenderly._

"_Some things never change," Sam said._

"_And don't you forget it," Dean quipped, his trademark smirk bringing a slight glint to his eyes._

_Sam watched as his brother promptly went from 'brother mode' to 'hunter mode'. He went over to where he had dropped his Bowie and bent to pick it up, just as Sam stepped forward to place a hand on his arm. _

"_Let me," the younger Winchester said softly._

"_C'mon, Sam, I know I annoy you sometimes but do you really want to kill me that badly?" Dean was trying to lighten the mood because he felt like he was going to drown in the chick-flick moment that he knew was looming close by but the look of hurt in his brother's eyes made him abruptly change his tactics. "Look, Sammy, I'm not going to let you live with the memory of killing me, okay!? Even if it's not me-me..." Dean paused, shaking his head at the craziness of that statement. "My point is, you'll still have nightmares about it." When Sam opened his mouth to protest, Dean held up a hand as a signal to let him finish. "I know you, Sam. You are __**not**__ doing this, you hear me?" _

_Sam couldn't help but smile again at yet another indication that his brother was getting back to his old self. The smile quickly disappeared, however, once he realized that this was the Dean in here… out in the real world was most definitely going to be a different story. Forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, once again, Sam nodded to Dean but remained by his side to offer some kind of moral support. They turned together towards the 'other-Dean'._

_In a flash, six well-sized demons appeared in front of them, blocking their path. Dean immediately brought his Bowie up and Sam did the same with the shotgun. The demons moved so that they surrounded the two hunters, pinning them inside a makeshift circle. The brothers turned so that they were back to back, each ready to cover the other. Dean glanced down at the Bowie in his hand and, although it was his favourite weapon in hand-to-hand combat, he realized he needed something with a little more punch. He placed the knife in the large sheath that magically appeared on his forearm, and held his hands out as if he was holding something… and, suddenly, he was. A sawed-off shotgun, identical to Sam's, appeared in his upturned palms and he immediately yanked on the slide action barrel, aiming at the demons that were slowly advancing on them. Sam looked back over his shoulder at him, eyebrows raised. _

"_My dreamscape, remember, Sammy? Now, let's get this done."_

_Dean fired the first round. It landed smack in the middle of the demon closest to him, exploding through his chest. 'One down.'_

"_Hey, uh, Dean,_ i_f this is your dream," Sam said, firing a round of his own and watching as his target fell to the ground in a bloody heap. "Why not just make these bastards disappear?"_

"_Because, Lilith still holds some control. But, not for long, little brother, not for long." He fired his weapon again, taking out the third demon. Then he heard Sam fire as well, noticing the THWACKING sound of the shell meeting flesh and bone, he glanced back and was not surprised to see the fourth demon laying on the ground. He was, however, somewhat surprised to see that it was missing a head. "Nice __shot__, Sammy!"_

"_Thanks. I've got the other two. You go --" he paused, unable to tell his brother to kill himself. "You go do what you gotta do."_

"_Sam --"_

"_It's okay, Dean. I've got these two. Do it and then wake the hell up! Deal?"_

_Dean reluctantly nodded. "Deal," he replied, handing Sam his shotgun. He smiled at the sight of his baby brother standing there, holding not one but two shotguns and looking like some sort of action hero. Bringing himself back to the present, Dean turned, only to find a nasty looking demon looming over him - this guy makes Sam look short!_

"_Damn," he said, as he silently pulled the Bowie out of the sheath and prepared for a no-doubt losing battle._

"_Dean! Down!"_

_With quick reflexes, Dean dropped to the ground and, at the same instant, heard the telltale sound of a shotgun being fired. He looked up just in time to see the demon fly back against the wall. He gave Sam a look of gratitude, then got up and resumed his approach to his huddling-self in the corner. He couldn't help but think of the phrase 'Dude, don't beat yourself up over it.' and chuckled softly but quickly sobered at the realization that he wasn't just going to 'beat himself up', he was going to actually kill himself! Ah well, he thought, been there, done that - a couple times. He was now crouched in front of the quivering figure and tried to figure out what to say. Finally, he settled on what he himself would have wanted to hear in this situation._

"_I'm gonna end this for you, okay?"_

_He was happy to see that the figure had more than just his good looks - well, sort of, if you didn't count the whole 'missing eyes' thing - when his other-self nodded resolutely and raised his chin, knowing what had to be done. Dean reached out and, squeezing his eyes shut at the last minute, sliced the throat of the eyeless figure, making sure the knife went deep to ensure instantaneous death and as little suffering as possible. After a slight gurgling sound, there was nothing but silence. Dean opened his eyes and, seeing that the figure was definitely dead, he spun around to check on Sam. His heart seemed to leap out of his chest when he saw his little brother slumped on the floor, blood all over his shirt… just like at Cold Oak._

"_Sammy!"_

_Dean ran over to him, fell to his knees and pulled Sam into his arms. "No! Please, God, no! Not after all this! Not AGAIN!" He winced as the not-so-distant memories assaulted his senses and failed to noticed when arms came up around his back, clutching his shirt._

_Sam tried to pull away to reassure his brother, to show him that he was alive, but Dean wouldn't let him. He felt his brother's hand cupping the back of his head. "Dean. Dude, it's okay."_

_The older Winchester finally pulled back and regarded his brother with wide eyes._

"_Not my blood, bro. Honest."_

_Relieved, Dean pulled his brother into his arms again but this time it was for a different reason. This time, he was just unbelievably happy that he didn't have to go through the experience of having his baby brother die in his arms again. Sam was alive. Sam was alive._

_Though surprised at his brother's display of affection, Sam still accepted it greedily. Now that he wasn't as concerned for Dean's state of mind, he quickly returned the hug and felt saddened when it ended. _

"_Okay, then," Dean began, obviously embarrassed by the fact that his emotions had taken over for a few moments. "I s'pose I should probably wake up now, huh?"_

"_Yeah, I guess so."_

"_You think I'll remember any of this?"_

"_I don't know. But, hopefully, you will in your subconscious cuz I don't know if Bobby'll be able to come up with some more dream root. You may be on your own for the next two fights."_

"_Two?"_

"_Your hearing and your speech, Dean."_

"_Right. Gotcha. Okay, then."_

_Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dean. I'll try my best to help you as much as I can. But, for now, you have to wake up so that you can recuperate a bit before the next battle."_

"_I think I'd rather just get it all done now, Sammy. You go home. I got it from here."_

"_Dean, no. You're body can't handle it. You need to rest."_

"_You do realize you're telling me to wake up and rest, right?"_

"_Yeah, Dean, I know," Sam said, grinning slightly._

"_Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? You know, sleep __equals__ rest?"_

"_Dean," Sam said, still grinning, "just shut up and open your eyes already. Bobby must be worried sick."_

"_Okay, fine," Dean sighed. "Have it your way."_

TBC


	6. To Be or Not To Be?

CHAPTER SIX - To Be or Not To Be?

The first thing Sam saw when he opened his eyes was Bobby sitting in a chair next to the bed, shotgun laying across his lap, watching both boys intently. As soon as he saw Sam was awake, he leaned forward and grabbed his shoulder.

"You okay, kid?"

"Yeah, Bobby, I'm fine," Sam replied. Still sitting beside Dean, he leaned forward a bit to see his brother's face - his eyes were still closed. "Dammit. Dean, you gotta wake up for me, bro! C'mon, please, wake up!" Then, remembering that his brother couldn't hear him, Sam patted the sides of his face gently, anxiously awaiting a reaction.

After watching for a few moments, Bobby finally placed a hand firmly on Sam's shoulder. "Son, this fight might be too much for him to handle."

"No way," Sam stated firmly.

"Lilith is pretty strong, Sam. Your brother might be fighting a losin' battle. You need to be prepared for the worse case scenario."

"No, you're wrong," the younger Winchester insisted. Then he regarded his friend through narrowed eyes, glanced at the books laying on the floor next to Bobby's chair, and said, "You did research while we were sleeping, didn't you? What did you find out, Bobby?"

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I just don't want you getting your hopes up, only to have 'em come crashin' down around ya'. I'm sure Dean'll pull through," he added with a confident smile. "He always does, right?"

"Yeah, he does," he whispered softly, glancing at his brother once again. He turned to face Bobby once again and repeated himself, this time with more conviction. "What did you find out?"

"Something that might help. C'mon," Bobby told him, heading out of the bedroom.

"What? No. I can't leave Dean. I don't want him to wake up alone."

"This is important. And, it'll only take a few minutes. I promise."

Sam thought about it for a minute then stood up and pulled his brother into a sitting position, wrapping one arm around his back and sliding the other beneath his knees. "Fine. But, I'm not leaving him," he said firmly, grunting with the effort as he scooped his brother up into his arms and cradled him against his chest.

"This is the safest place for him," Bobby insisted, glancing down at the ring of salt surrounding the bed.

"You need to leave him here."

"No," Sam said simply. "This place is like a fortress, Bobby. We've made sure of that. No demons are getting in here, except for the ones that are already inside my brother's head. After everything he's been through, I am NOT letting him wake up alone."

"Suit yourself," Bobby shrugged.

Sam hitched his brother up a bit higher so that Dean's head was resting on his shoulder, then followed his long-time friend out of the room.

Bobby led the way down into the living room which was currently pulling double duty as a study. He glanced back to see Sam following close behind with his brother held securely in his arms.

The younger Winchester laid his precious cargo gently on the sofa. He spared a glance at the roaring flames in the fireplace, the only light source in the room, and was thankful for the warmth they provided. After a moment, he turned to Bobby to ask for the bag of salt. Before a word was able to leave Sam's lips, however, the older hunter smacked him across the head with an iron poker, sending him to the floor with a grunt of pain and surprise.

* * *

When Sam finally came to, he was shocked to find himself laying face down on the floor of Bobby's living room with his hands tied behind his back. Then, he remembered how he had come to be in this position and the shock gave way to… even more shock. Bobby had hit him. But, why? Possession? He cursed inwardly. _I should've known. Bobby never calls me Sammy. Only Dean. Dad used to but now it's only Dean… and Lilith. Crap!_ Maybe this place wasn't as much of a fortress as he had originally thought. He turned his head to see if Dean was okay and instantly regretted the too-sudden movement when pain shot through his head like fireworks on the fourth of July. He eased his eyes open and realized that his brother was no longer on the old sofa.

"Ah, so you decided to wake up, I see."

It was Bobby's voice, yet not Bobby's voice. Damn it, what had they missed? How had Lilith found her way in here?

"Where's my brother," Sam asked, dismayed at how weak his voice sounded.

"That's not important, right now."

"The hell it isn't!"

"Now, now, mind your manners," the demon said.

"I know it's you, Lilith." he declared, not even trying to hide his hatred for the bitch.

"It's about time you figured that out. Your stupidity was beginning to bore me."

Sam glanced over towards the stairs and noticed Bobby's sawed-off leaning against the railing.

"Ah-ah-ah," the demon chided, waggling Bobby's finger like some smarmy school teacher. "Don't even think about it, unless you want me to kill your brother, right now. I promise you, he'll be dead in the blink of an eye."

The youngest Winchester regarded the demon with disbelief shining in his eyes.

"Just the flip of a switch, Sammy. Just the flip of a switch."

* * *

Dean woke up completely alone. The room was dark but the moonlight coming in through the window provided enough light for him to see that no one else was there. He recognized the room as Bobby's guest room but couldn't quite remember how he had gotten there.

He wanted to call out for Sam but his hunter instincts told him that his little brother was in danger and, if he wanted to save him - which, duh, of course he did! - he'd better keep his mouth shut. He pushed the blankets off and sat on the edge of the mattress, startled by the coolness of the floor on his bare feet. Standing up from the bed, Dean silently made his way out into the hallway.

To his left was nothing but darkness. To his right, he could see the reflection of a light extending up the stairs, flickering softly against the walls. Ignoring the sense of foreboding in his gut, he turned to the right, in search of his little brother.

* * *

"Where. Is. My. Brother," Sam repeated, while trying desperately to free his hands without Lilith's knowledge.

"That question is getting really old, Sammy," she told him. Then giving him not much more than a cursory glance, she added, "Do you really think I don't know how to tie an effective knot, Sammy?"

_Huh, so much for that plan. _Her awareness, however, did nothing to stop him from continuing his effort to free himself.

The demon went over to the fireplace and picked up the poker which had been discarded to the floor after its earlier use. It looked back at the young hunter as it held the weapon over the flames. "You know, you've been a thorn in my side for a very long time. I think it's about time you suffered some of the consequences for your actions."

Sam did his best to hide his fear when he saw the poker beginning to take on a reddish glow from the fire. Taking a page from his brother's book, he put on his 'game face', not wanting this bitch to get any satisfaction from the torture she was about to inflict on him.

"You and your brother are a lot alike, Sammy."

"I take that as a compliment," Sam said through gritted teeth.

"Good. It was meant as one," Lilith replied snidely. "You should know that I don't give those out very often, either."

The younger Winchester laughed bitterly. "You expecting a 'thank-you'? Cuz you'll be waiting a helluva long time."

"You might not thank me… but you _will_ scream for me."

The demon approached him, holding the fire-red poker firmly in hand.

* * *

Once he arrived at the top of the stairs, Dean was able to hear voices. One voice was definitely Bobby's - though it did sound somewhat different from its usual gravely cadence - he couldn't make out everything being said but he could tell Bobby was threatening someone, or _something_. The second voice didn't hold as much volume so it was much harder to discern - but, something about it was… familiar. He was sure he had heard the voice somewhere before. After a few moments, Dean gave up trying to put his finger on the elusive memory and started his descent into the lower level of the house. Then, stopped in his tracks when he heard Bobby say… 'Sammy'. Sammy? Throwing caution to the wind, Dean raced down the stairs.

His bare feet came sliding to a stop just before entering the living room. A man was tied up on the floor, looking up in horror at Bobby, who was holding a hot poker. Dean watched in horror as his father's friend advanced on the defenceless man on the floor. He couldn't believe his eyes. But, his father had trained him well and he knew that, sometimes, your eyes lied.

* * *

Sam peered anxiously at his friend, trying to reach him before Lilith was able to begin her promised torture. "Bobby! You can fight this, man. You're stronger than her!"

This time, it was Lilith's turn to laugh - and damn if that evil cackle didn't sound all kinds of wrong coming out of Bobby Singer's mouth.

"Bobby, stop," a small voice said from the entrance to the living room.

Both Sam and the demon turned to see who the voice belonged to - and Sam was shocked by the sight before him.

"Dean?"

The oh-so-wrong cackle erupted from the demon, once again. It turned its attention to Dean, advancing on him with the poker.

"Leave him alone," Dean said. He didn't know how he knew who the bad guy was and who the good guy was, but he did and quickly decided to chalk it up to well honed instincts.

"And, just what are you gonna do about it, boy?"

Sam watched the exchange with growing horror. What exactly _was_ Dean going to do about it? You know, seeing as his 'big brother' was all of about twelve years old. _What the hell?_ That's when Sam figured it out. He had never truly woken up. Lilith had just made him think that he had. They were still inside Dean's head. Only, now, Dean was just a little kid… a little kid who had a big, evil demon coming at him with a hot poker. And Dean thought it was just Bobby, someone who would never hurt him. Sam quickly realized that he had underestimated this mini version of his brother as he watched him glare up at the demon, taking the fighting stance their father had drilled into them. Sam smiled with more than a little pride as he watched Dean prepare for battle, then paled at the knowledge that, despite his training and ability, the young boy was no match for Lilith in any body, let alone Bobby's.

_Okay, can't panic. Think, Sam, think! All right, since it was a dream, Lilith won't actually be able to hurt us, right? Yeah, right, _he thought bitterly. _It's not like she's been able to hurt Dean in here already, or anything! Time for plan 'B'. Wait. _'My dream, my rules, Sammy.' _That's it!_

"Dean," Sam yelled. "Close your eyes and concentrate. You can make him disappear," he told the boy, indicating Bobby with a jerk of his chin. Dean looked at him like he was completely crazy, nuts, and bonkers. And, who could blame him? "It's a dream, dude. You're in control."

The demon spun around to face Sam… making the mistake of turning his back on Dean. The twelve-year-old stepped back a few steps, grabbed the shotgun from next to the stairwell and took steady aim at Bobby's back.

BLAM!

The sound of the gun echoed through the living room. Even before Bobby-Lilith had completely dispersed into the air, Dean was at Sam's side.

"Dude, I don't know who the hell you are but you'd better get outta here fast. Whatever that thing was, it ain't gonna stay gone for long."

"Dean -- "

"And, that's another thing," the boy stated, untying the ropes holding Sam's wrists. "How do you know my name? You know my dad, or something?"

Sam wanted nothing more than to explain their current predicament to his brother but there was no time. "I'll explain later, Dean. You were right, we need to get out of here before it comes back," he told him, gently massaging feeling back into his hands.

"No way. I said that _you_ need to get outta here. I, on the other hand, need to find my little brother."

"I'm not leaving you here."

"Well, you're gonna have to cuz I'm not leaving."

Lilith's laugh prickled through the air again and both brothers stopped their conversation to gaze up at the ceiling. _Not much time left, _Sam thought. The only place he could think of to hide was the white room, the only question being whether or not he'd be able to find it again. He grabbed Dean's wrist with one hand, the sawed-off with the other, and began dragging his brother towards the door.

"Lemme go," the boy insisted, trying desperately to release himself from this stranger's hold. "I have to find my brother!"

"I know where he is," Sam told him, still dragging him across the room.

"You're lying! Let me go!" With no other option, Dean leaned forward and bit the back of the man's hand, causing his hold to loosen so quickly that Dean fell flat on his ass.

Sam turned to him, holding his injured right hand in his left. "What'd you do that for?"

"Leave me alone," the boy said, crab walking back away from Sam.

"Dean, I'm only trying to help you."

"I don't need your help," Dean exclaimed. "I need to find my family!"

At that moment, Lilith materialized behind Dean, this time taking the form of Mary Winchester.

"Dean. Don't trust him. Come to me, sweetheart!"

Dean spun around in response to his mother's voice. "M-mom?" he asked, suddenly sounding much younger than he already was.

"No, Dean, don't listen to her. It's not Mom," Sam whispered urgently. "We have to go." He grabbed Dean's elbow this time and began dragging him towards the door.

But, the boy was pulling in the opposite direction with all his might - which, for a twelve-year-old, was a surprising amount.

Without a second to waste, Sam leaned down and lifted his twelve-year-old brother with his free arm. With one arm braced at the backs of Dean's thighs, and the other across his back, Sam held him against his shoulder and chest, and made a dash for the door.

"No, let me go! Mom? Mom!"

"It's not Mom, Dean. I swear to you, it's not," Sam told him desperately as he continued his path to the door.

Dean struggled fervently to extricate himself from this stranger's hold, while Sam turned back and lifted the sawed-off, while keeping his gun arm braced against his brother's back.

"Close your eyes, Dean!"

Unable to take the time to ensure his command was adhered to, he quickly fired one handed, causing Mary Winchester to disappear.

"Noooooo!" Dean screamed, reaching desperately over Sam's shoulder towards where Mary's form had been standing. Sam prayed that he hadn't just caused more damage to his brother's psyche.

Outside, Dean continued to squirm and kick and punch, trying desperately to get free. "Let me go," he roared. "Mom!" But, Sam ignored his protests and held his brother even tighter against him, wincing at the anguish in his brother's cries but still running as fast his legs would carry him.

* * *

Eventually, Dean had gone limp in Sam's arms, his own arms hanging over the younger, yet much larger, Winchester's shoulders. Sam's left arm was holding most of his brother's weight and it was starting to go numb but Sam was hesitant to change Dean's position for fear that it would wake him.

As it turned out, he needn't have worried because Dean woke up on his own, pulling back slightly to look Sam in the eye. He peered so closely at him that Sam was beginning to squirm slightly beneath the penetrating gaze, for it felt as if Dean was staring directly into his soul. And, maybe he was, because the next words out of his mouth stopped Sam in mid-stride. "Sammy?"

The younger Winchester's jaw dropped as he returned his brother's stare. "You - you recognize me?"

Dean nodded mutely, then said in a soft voice, "Shoulda' guessed before but it was so dark, I couldn't see your eyes all that well," the boy looked away, a subdued expression on his face. "Sorry."

Sam laughed. "Bro, I'm impressed that you recognized me at all."

"You can put me down now," Dean said. "I promise not to run away from you."

Sam complied and set his brother down on the ground. He couldn't help but notice the shock that immediately registered on his brother's face. "What?"

"Wow, Sammy," the twelve-year-old declared, "you got _tall_!"

The younger Winchester chuckled at that. "Tends to happen over a 15 year period, Dean. Besides, you got tall, too."

Dean snorted. "Well, of course, I did. And, I bet I'm still taller than you."

Sam looked away, slightly chagrined but also amused.

"Wait," Dean said, grabbing his arm. "I am still taller than you, right?"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"Well, one things for sure," the boy stated.

"What's that?"

"You still couldn't lie to save your life."

Sam laughed outright at that. "Maybe not. But, I can lie to save yours."

"Never doubted that for a second, Sammy," Dean said matter-of-factly, a note of pride in his voice.

* * *

They finally arrived at the white room and, since Dean was with him, the door disappeared as soon as they stepped up to it, then reappeared the moment they stepped through.

"We need to figure out what to do next, Dean," Sam began, walking further into the room, his back to his brother. "Lilith is hurting you and if we don't stop her, the damage could be permanent."

"Who's Lilith?"

The younger Winchester spun around at the different cadence to his brother's voice and was stunned to see that Dean had aged another five years. "Whoa," Sam exclaimed, feeling at a distinct loss for words.

"Dude, what's your problem?"

"Dean, you just jumped ahead five years in about as many seconds."

The older - usually, anyway - of the two looked down at himself, noting with appreciation his now 5'10" frame. "Awesome," he said simply. After a moment, his gaze returned to Sam. "You never answered my question, Sammy. Who's Lilith?"

Sam sighed and sat down on the floor, his back up against the wall. He motioned for Dean to join him. Once his brother was seated comfortably next to him, Sam recanted the story about Dean selling his soul for him and, subsequently, going to hell. The 17-year-old listened with rapt attention, stopping Sam only when certain things came back to him - Cold Oak, Ruby, the fight with Lilith, the Hell Hounds. The next time he halted Sam's retelling of the last few months of his life… and death… was the part where their dad had rescued him from the fiery pit.

"Hold on a minute," he said. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I know dad can kick some serious ass, but how the hell did he manage to rescue me from, well… hell?"

_He doesn't know! _Sam thought sadly. _How am I supposed to tell this... kid... that his father is dead?_

There were several long moments of silence. Then…

"Sammy, what aren't you telling me?"

"Dean," Sam began.

"Sam, what is it?"

The younger Winchester was having a hard time trying to figure out how to break this news to his brother. After all, he'd essentially be making Dean lose their father at the tender age of 17, as opposed to ten years later. Granted, it was a horrible loss no matter the age but Sam felt like he was about to steal away precious years that Dean had had with the irreplaceable John Winchester. However, he also knew there was no way he could lie to his brother - Sam's ability to fabricate, or lack thereof, had already been established.

"Dean," he said again, "Dad's… Dad's dead, Dean." It was Dean's turn to go slack-jawed, then Sam watched as the teen jumped to his feet and started pacing back and forth, hands running through his hair in frustration.

"No, you're wrong," he declared after a few moments. "Dad's not dead. He can't be!"

Sam slowly stood, as well, peering at his brother with growing concern. "I'm sorry, Dean, I -- "

_This couldn't be true! Please, God, don't let it be true. Not dad… he's indestructible. He can't be dead. He just can't be! _"No!" he yelled, jabbing his finger angrily at Sam. "You're lying. This Lilith chick conjured you up to try to break me! You're not my brother!" Dean could feel himself beginning to hyperventilate and leaned forward, placing both hands on his knees. He'd been so sure this was _his_ Sammy, but not anymore. Or, maybe he just didn't _want_ it to be his Sammy because that would mean that dad's… No-no-no-no. It was a trick. It had to be! Dean could sense Sam approaching him. He forced himself to stand up straight. "No, it can't be true!" He made a move towards the door but immediately felt Sam's restraining hand on his arm.

"Dean, you can't go out there alone, dude. It's not safe. We have to stick together."

"No!" Dean yelled again, trying desperately to wrench his arm free, but Sam's hold was unrelenting. Suddenly, he felt himself being spun around and came to a stop smack-dab in the middle of a freakin' hug! "What the _hell_!? Get off me, you freak! You're not my brother, dammit! Let GO!"

"Dean, just think. Try to remember."

"No," the teen roared into Sam's chest, pounding on his back with his fists. "Get OFF me!"

"I know it hurts but you have to remember. Please. You remembered everything else and I need you to remember this, too."

Dean continued to squirm relentlessly in Sam's grip, alternating between pushing at his chest and pulling at the back of his shirt, in an effort to get away.

"Please, Dean," Sam whispered against his brother's hair, hugging him fiercely against him. "I don't know how much longer this Dream Root is gonna last, and I _need_ my big brother back. Please!"

_Time of death: 10:41am. _"No," Dean whimpered, his voice muffled by Sam's shirt. _I'm dealin' with Dad's death! Are you? _"Sammy?" He felt himself crumble against his brother. _Dad's dead because of me. _Dean abruptly lost the fight against his tears, barely noticed them coursing down his cheeks, soaking his brother's shirt. But Sam didn't let go, if anything, Dean could've sworn his brother's arms tightened around him. That's when the gut wrenching sobs began - seemingly erupting from his very heart and soul. _Why, dad? Why?_

Sam held Dean against him, trying desperately to make his big brother feel better the way Dean had done for him his entire life. He was concentrating so intently on making the pain go away, he failed to notice that the person in his arms was now bigger than he was when the first tear had fallen. His shoulders broader. His face buried in Sam's collarbone instead of his chest. Sam didn't notice any of this until Dean finally spoke.

"It's okay, Sammy. I'm okay, now. I'm good."

The younger Winchester pulled away, hands on his brother's shoulders, and his eyes widened when he saw a 29-year-old Dean wiping the tears off his face, doing his best to be discreet about it. "Dean! You're… you're old again!"

"Hey, now," Dean said, a half-hearted smirk on his face, "no need to start throwin' out the insults, there, Sasquatch."

Sam laughed softly and pulled his brother in for another embrace. Dean rolled his eyes but accepted the hug - for Sam, not for himself. No way. Because, Dean Winchester doesn't hug.

TBC


	7. Truth Be Told

A/N I have actually rewritten this story - the only way I could come up with to get around my horrible writer's block. A lot of it remains the same but there are more brotherly moments (adult, teenchester and weechester) in this new version. For chapters 1 to 5, it was more or less tweaking, but chapter 6 and onward has a lot of changes. Whether or not you want to reread from that chapter on, is entirely up to you. Either way, thank so much for sticking with me for so long! Kelcor

CHAPTER SEVEN - TRUTH BE TOLD

_Together again, Sam and Dean trudged through Dean's mind, searching for clues to what Lilith had done to the older Winchester to make him deaf and mute. _

"_Maybe we should split up," Sam suggested._

"_What? No way, Sam."_

"_Why not?"_

"_Because, first of all, I can't protect you if you're off on your own. And, secondly…"_

"_What?"_

"_I don't want you snoopin' around in my head."_

"_Dean, if you're ever gonna trust me, now would be a good time to start."_

_Sam watched as his brother's head snapped up at his statement. "What're you talkin' about, Sam? I trust you with my life, you know that."_

"_Yeah, with your life. But, apparently not with anything else."_

"_Sammy…"  
_

"_Look, Dean, I'm not gonna use your vulnerabilities against you, okay? I would never, EVER hurt you intentionally."_

"_I know that, Sammy."_

"_Then, please, just trust me!" _

_Dean couldn't ignore the pleading tone in his little brother's voice - he never could. He gazed at him for another moment, then finally relented. "Okay," he said, "we split up, then."_

_They each stepped away from each other, Sam sporting a soft smile on his face. "Be careful, Dean."_

"_You too, Sammy. Just remember, my mind can be scarier than a Stephen King novel."_

"_I kinda figured as much," Sam declared, only half joking._

* * *

_It wasn't long before Sam came to a dark alley of some sort. He found himself wishing that Dean was there so that he could conjure up a flashlight for him - then a flashlight appeared in his left hand, and he didn't even have to wish for the shotgun that appeared in his right. "Thanks, Dean," Sam said to the apparent emptiness. He'd forgotten that his brother was everywhere in here - literally!_

_Turning on the flashlight, he made his way into the alley, in search of what was causing his brother's ailments. It didn't take long for the light to fall on a figure hunched over next to an old, grimy dumpster. Sam approached cautiously, placed a hand on the stranger's shoulder. "Hello?" The man turned around, and Sam wasn't all that surprised to see the bright green eyes staring up at him. He winced, however, when he saw the thick scars covering the areas where his brother's ears should be. "Oh man, Dean!" Before Sam could do anything else, he found himself being tossed through the air, his back slamming into the brick wall on the other side of the alleyway. The flashlight crashing to the ground at his feet, and his shotgun flying out of his hand, landing only a few feet away. But, those few feet may as well have been light years because Sam couldn't move an inch._

* * *

_Dean found himself - quite literally - in a vaguely familiar park. A younger Dean was sitting at a picnic table, carving pictures into the wooden table top with a small pocket knife. Dean brushed some snow off the bench and sat down next to his other-self. After a moment, he realized it was the same park that Lucas had been sitting in the first time Dean had tried talking to him. He glanced around but didn't see the boy or his mom, Andrea, anywhere in sight. He noted that this version of himself was probably about 14 years old, but he couldn't see anything wrong with him - nothing that would constitute his not being able to hear or speak, anyway._

"_Hey," he ventured. The boy flinched at the sound of his voice but that was about it. He placed a hand on the other-Dean's shoulder - nope, didn't get any weirder than this - in an attempt to get at least a more tangible reaction. The green eyes suddenly peered up at him. "How ya' doin'?" Dean asked him. No response._

"_He can't speak," a small voice said from behind._

_Dean turned and his breath caught in his throat when he saw a ten-year-old Sam staring up at him. Finding his voice again, he said, "And, how do you know that, kiddo?"_

_Sam shrugged. "He's my brother," he answered matter-of-factly._

"_I see. And, you know everything about your brother."_

_The ten-year-old beamed up at him and nodded. "Uh-huh! He's my hero!"_

_Dean's eyebrows rose at this last statement. "Is that so?"_

"_Yup."_

"_Is he a superhero?" _

"_Darn straight!"_

"_Yeah? Which one?"_

_Sam seemed to think about that one for a minute. "Batman!"_

_This brought an honest to goodness smile to Dean's face. "Batman, huh. Why's that?"_

"_Duh! Because he fights the bad guys **and** gets the chicks!"_

_Dean laughed. One thing about Sam, the kid was always able to make him laugh. He reached over and ruffled his little brother's hair._

_"Do you know what's wrong with him?" _

_"Well," Dean replied, "um, do you know what your dad does? I mean, do you know what his job is?"_

_Sam hesitated, he didn't really know much because Dean refused to tell him anything. "He's a travelling sales man," the boy answered, not believing his brother's story anymore but unable to come up with an alternative reply._

_"That's right," Dean said, "I haven't told you yet."_

_"Told me what?"_

_"Uh, nothing, kid. Listen, a mean lady made your brother sick, that's why he can't talk."_

_The ten-year-old stepped forward and held his teenage brother's hand in his own. "Can you help him?"_

"_I'm not sure," Dean admitted, then a thought occurred to him. "How old are you, Sam?" _

"_Ten," the boy said proudly._

"_When is Christmas?"_

_Sam looked at him quizzically. "Dude! You lose your calendar, or something?"_

"_Humour me, kid."_

"_It's in three days."_

"_You got that present you were gonna give him?"_

_The boy's eyes widened in surprise. "How did you know about that?"_

"_Bobby told me," Dean said quickly._

"_It was supposed to be a secret," Sam pouted. "It's no fun if it's not a surprise."_

"_Actually," Dean said, his voice hushed conspiratorially, "that's why I'm here."_

_Sam's head canted to one side, simultaneously curious and suspicious. _

"_Bobby wanted me to tell you to give Dean the amulet today instead of on Christmas morning."_

"_Why?" _

"_Bobby told you it's magic, right?" _

_Sam nodded._

"_Well, we think it might help your brother to speak again."_

_The boy visibly brightened at this news. "Really? You think it might?"_

_Dean shrugged. "Couldn't hurt to try, could it?"_

"_I guess not," Sam replied, though hesitantly. After thinking about it for a moment, he smiled. "Okay, if you think it might help Dean, I'll give it to him early." The ten-year-old pulled the amulet out of his pocket, where he obviously had been keeping it safe. He reached over and put it over his brother's head. Almost instantly the amulet began to glow. Then, just as quickly, the glow disappeared - so quickly, in fact, that Dean half thought that he had imagined it._

_He watched as his teen-self gazed down at the amulet, tears in his eyes. "Thanks, Sammy," he said softly._

_Ten-year-old Sam was so happy, he threw himself at his brother, wrapping his arms around his neck. "Dean, you're okay!"_

_The teenaged Dean returned the hug whole-heartedly. "Thanks to you, Sammy. Thanks to you."_

_Dean walked away from the two boys at the picnic table, refusing to admit even to himself that the water in his own eyes was due to anything other than the cold. _

"_Hey," a voice called from behind him._

_Dean turned to face the ten-year-old again._

_"Is that mean lady gonna hurt my brother again?"_

_"Not if I can help it, kid."_

"_Thanks," Sam said._

"_You're welcome," Dean replied, then walked away again. He smiled when he heard his younger self say "Who the heck are you talkin' to, Sammy? Please don't tell me you have another imaginary friend!"_

_"Dean, I'm sorry! I failed you. I'm so sorry!"_

_The older Winchester spun around in a circle, his eyes searching the vast landscape - had the park been this big before? The boys were still sitting at the picnic table, laughing about something or other, but Dean was unable to hear anything they were saying. All he could hear was his 25-year-old brother's voice._

_'Ah crap', Dean thought, his eyes narrowing at the feeling of concern growing in the pit of his stomach. 'Sammy, what'd you get yourself into now?' _

* * *

_Sam watched helplessly as the demons approached him. He was still pinned to the brick wall behind him and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move. _

"_Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," Lilith said in an annoyingly sweet-sounding voice. "Haven't you learned yet that I rule the roost in here? Dean is mine to do with as I choose."_

"_Leave my brother alone," Sam demanded._

_Lilith, now as a pretty blonde, walked over to the scarred figure next to the dumpster. "Hmmm. Maybe I'll just have to take his eyes… again. Break his legs? Ooh, ooh, I know! How about I kill him and bring him back, over and over again?" Her lips drew into a pout. "Nah. I've done that so many times already. What do you think, Sammy? How should I hurt your brother this time?"_

"_I am so gonna kill you, bitch!"_

"_I really don't think you're in a position to make threats, Sammy."_

"_Maybe not, but I am!"_

_Lilith spun around, a look of utter shock came across her face when she saw Dean standing a few feet away. "What are you doing here?"_

"_Well, you see, you've made the horrible mistake of hurting my brother and now you're gonna have to die."_

"_You can't kill me, Dean! Your weapons won't work, you know that."_

_"You're right,__" Dean stated, "the guns won't work. But, I happened to find a handy little library on my way over here." At that moment, a large tome formed in his hands. He instantly began reading the Latin incantation from the pages. _

"_No!" Lilith screamed. Then the other demons joined in as, all at once, each demon was expelled from the bodies they'd been inhabiting, including Lilith. Then, since they weren't weren't real anyway, the bodies disappeared into thin air. _

_Sam fell hard to the ground. He looked up a minute later to find Dean hovering over him. "You okay," Dean asked._

"_Yeah," the younger replied, taking his brother's hand and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. "You?"_

"_I think so. Been talkin' to myself way too much lately, though," he added lightly. _

"_Dude, since when do you have a freakin' library in your head?"_

_Dean slapped him upside the back of the head, "Watch it, Sasquatch. I can still kick your scrawny ass!"_

_"Whatever, Dude," Sam laughed. Then, all laughter gone from his eyes, he added, "Just promise me you'll wake up, Dean?!"_

_"I promise, Sammy," Dean replied sincerely._

* * *

This time, when Sam woke up, Bobby was standing at the window on the other side of the room, gazing out at the early morning sunshine. The younger Winchester prayed that he was, in actuality, awake this time around. He checked on Dean and saw that his brother's eyes were - again - not open. "C'mon, man," Sam pleaded. "Dude, you promised! You've never once in your life broken a promise to me, please, please don't start now."

Bobby spun around at the sound of his voice. "Sam? Dagnabbit, boy, what the hell took you so long? I was worried sick!"

"Sorry, Bobby. Things were more complicated than we thought."

"What's important now is that you're awake," the older hunter relented, his eyes falling on Dean. "Did it work?"

"We got rid of the demons, especially Lilith, but as to whether or not it cured Dean... I don't know," Sam said, once again looking down at his brother. "Bobby," he began, regaining eye contact with his friend, "why is it so hot in here?"

"Hot? What're you talkin' about? I actually find it pretty cool."

At that moment, Sam realized the heat wasn't coming from the house, it was coming from his brother. "Crap! Bobby, he's burning up!"

Bobby was at his side a second later, placing the back of his hand on Dean's forehead, then cheek. "Yeah, and from the feel of it, I'd say it's pretty darn high, too. We need to cool him down."

"Maybe Lilith isn't gone after all," Sam said, his voice close to the edge of panic.

Bobby grabbed a thermometer from the bag full of medical supplies - he'd used the last thermometer to check Rumsfeld's temperature and had promptly thrown it out afterwards... no one would want that thing in their mouth ever again. He placed the new temperature guage in Dean's mouth and waited to hear the beep before taking it out.

"Crap!"

"How high," Sam asked simply, not quite hiding the tremble in his voice.

"104.5."

Sam didn't respond but his sharp intake of breath told Bobby that the young man did, in fact, hear him. Without a second to spare, Bobby stormed out of the room.

Having not realized that Bobby had even left, Sam jumped slightly when the older hunter returned with a cold wash cloth. "Here," he said, "you start wiping down his face, neck, chest and arms. I'm gonna go get the book with the exorcism ritual in it." After placing a large bowl of water on the nightstand, Bobby started out of the bedroom, then turned and pointed a finger sternly at Sam, "You stay with your brother, ya' hear!? He needs you, right now!"

If Sam was still wondering if this was the real Bobby - which, let's be honest, he was - all doubt left his mind when Bobby told him to stay with his brother, no matter what. Sam gave the older hunter a small, sad smile. "Wild horses couldn't drag me away."

* * *

While Bobby went downstairs to get the book from his immense library, Sam removed Dean's t-shirt and began cooling his brother down. After only a couple passes with the cloth, he had to immerse it into the bowl of cool water. He quickly returned the cloth to his brother's fevered skin, and couldn't help remembering the scene he'd witnessed in Dean's mind of a time when Sam was really sick. "My turn to take care of you this time, big brother."

Bobby returned and almost immediately began the Latin incantation. Dean started to jerk around on the bed. It started out as flinches but soon progressed to him arching his back off the mattress and fisting the blankets in his hands. Sam pushed him back down onto the bed, draping his own body over top of his brother's chest in an attempt to keep Dean from hurting himself before Bobby's recitation was complete.

As soon as Bobby uttered the last Latin phrase, Dean's body went limp beneath Sam's, which prompted the younger to instantly check for a pulse. He allowed a heavy sigh of relief escape his slightly parted lips when he found a strong, steady heart beat. After ten minutes, however, the fever had still not receded. He and Bobby were fast running out of options. Sam sat on the edge of the bed, next to Dean's hip, and put his face in his hands. He was doing his best not to break here, but it was getting more and more difficult with each passing second. He'd just gotten his brother back, there was _**no way**_ he was going to lose him again!

Then, something his father had said to him ran through his mind. _"Remember the present." _Sam had thought his father was telling him to live in the now and forget about the past, forget about the night Dean had been taken from him, the night the Hell hounds had attacked. But, now...

"Hey, Sam, you still with me, son?"

Sam nodded mutely.

"I think we're gonna have to get him into a tub of cool water before this fever fries his brain," Bobby told him, preparing to lift Dean into his arms. When the older hunter had Dean pulled into a sitting position, with one arm beneath his legs, Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, halting his efforts.

"Wait," the younger Winchester said softly, "I have an idea." He reached under his own shirt and pulled the amulet he'd given Dean all those years ago out from beneath it. He removed it and immediately placed it over Dean's head, allowing the amulet itself to lay over his brother's heart.

"What now," Bobby asked.

"Now, we wait."

"Sam, if we wait much longer..."

"I know, Bobby, okay. I know. Just give it a chance. If his fever doesn't start going down in the next few minutes, we'll go with your idea. I just... it's something that Dad said in my dream. I really think this is going to work."

Bobby simply tilted his head slightly in agreement and released Dean, laying him gently back down on the bed. He watched as Sam took his brother's hand in his own once again. Bobby leaned against a nearby wall. Neither moved from those positions until five minutes had passed, then Bobby replaced the thermometer into Dean's mouth. Bobby was pretty sure that Sam didn't even take a breath this time as they waited for the tell-tale beep.

Once the thermometer told them it was finished, Sam pulled it out of his brother's mouth.

"Well?" Bobby asked impatiently. "Don't leave me hangin' here, boy!"

The corners of Sam's mouth twitched up a bit, then spread into an all-out, toothy grin. "It worked," he told the older man. "The fever's already down to 102!"

_TBC_

_A/N Okay, so the next two chapters will be two small epilogues which will basically translate to two alternate endings. One with Sam h/c and angst... the other with Dean h/c and angst. Please review and let me know which one you want me to post first... the one with the most votes wins... either way, they will both be posted. The only question is, which one will be first? ;o) _Kelcor


	8. Sam's Grief

_A/N Okay, here is the first Alternate Ending - Sam h/c. I'm really hoping it works because I was pretty medicated when I wrote it. I almost want to hold off on posting it but I promised to post it today... actually, I promised to post both Alternate Endings today but I didn't plan on getting sick. :o( But, who does, really? Anyway, I hope you like it. I may end up editing it a bit tomorrow night. That being said, if anyone has some suggestions, I'm all ears. _Kelcor

CHAPTER EIGHT - GUILT

He refused to open his eyes at first, relying on his well-honed hunter instincts to figure out if he was alone or not - because he understood the need for caution, not because he was afraid of what he would (or wouldn't) see when he opened them. Nope. Not scared. Not at all. Dean Winchester doesn't _do_ scared. He remembered Sam in his dreams. He remembered the torture in the pit and then being with Sam but not being able to see or hear him. He half wondered if it had _all_ been a dream. Either way, he was more than a little surprised that he actually felt better than he had felt since... he didn't know when.

Sure, he was a teensy bit nervous that he and Sam had failed in their quest to get Lilith out of his head, not to mention fixing the damage she had done while she had been taking up residence there… but he no longer felt the deep ache in his heart that had seemed to follow him throughout the last 25 years, ever since that fateful night when his mother had been violently torn out of his life. Then, he remembered crying in Sam's arms. This particular memory left him feeling more than a little embarrassed. But, then again, Dean was pretty sure that that event was the sole reason the all-consuming ache was gone - though he certainly wouldn't be sharing that little tid bit of information with Sam anytime soon.

He felt the warm weight against his side before he heard, yes _heard_, the soft snore - the sound of which he would always recognize… Sammy? He suddenly heard another sound that he would forever recognize but hated hearing every time. The small whimper Sam had always made since they were kids, whenever he was caught in a nightmare.

His instincts to protect Sam at all costs kicked in and Dean finally opened his eyes - and was immensely relieved when he was able to see his surroundings. _Maybe there really is a God, _he thought soberly. The colours in the room were muted to match the rest of Bobby Singer's house, but he'd never been so happy to see such a drab display of decor in all his life.

Another whimper brought all attention back to his little brother. He slowly lifted his hand and pushed Sam's hair off his face, revealing features contorted in pain. Physical or emotional was anybody's guess, right now. All that mattered to Dean was that his baby brother was hurting.

"Sam? Sammy, time to wake up, Dude," he said, continuing to run his hand through Sam's hair in an attempt to soothe him.

Sam bolted awake, a scream on his lips, which was left unvoiced when he saw his brother awake and staring at him in concern, his hand hanging in mid air, just above Sam's head. It took him a moment, but comprehension finally seemed to seep into Sam's sleep muddled brain.

"Dean! You're awake!" Surprising both himself and his older brother, Sam slipped one arm beneath Dean's shoulders and pulled him up into a rough hug. That surprise, however, was nothing compared to what Sam felt when his big brother actually returned the hug with an earnestness the younger Winchester had never before experienced when it came to his brother.

When they finally parted, the look of concern was still blatantly plastered on Dean's face. "Dude, you okay?"

"I am now," Sam replied, his smile extending from ear to ear. Then he punched Dean lightly on the shoulder, "Took you long enough, jerk!"

"Bitch," Dean retorted, smirking slightly. "Dude, I was tired! I _have_ been to hell and back, after all."

"Not funny, Dean."

"Aw, c'mon, it was a little -- "

"No, it wasn't," Sam said, abruptly cutting him off.

As soon as Dean saw the pain in his brother's eyes, he relented. "You're right, Sam. Sorry." There was a long pause, then the older brother broke the silence. "So, what were you dreaming about?"

Chagrined, Sam quickly broke eye contact. "Nothing," he lied, knowing full well that Dean wasn't buying it for a minute, yet praying he wouldn't push the issue - and completely taken aback when yet another prayer was answered and Dean dropped the subject altogether.

* * *

They spent the next few days at Bobby's, recouping and regrouping. It was no secret that Bobby was like a surrogate father to them, but it was also never said aloud. Not until the night Dean and the older hunter sat down with a bottle of whiskey. Sam had turned in early, which was actually a relief for Dean because his concern for his little brother's health was steadily growing.

"Listen, Bobby, thanks for taking care of Sammy during all… this," Dean finished with a wave of his hand.

"No problem, Dean. I told you before, family don't end in blood."

"That feeling goes both ways, y'know, Bobby," Dean said, then raised his glass in the air. "To family," he said with an uncharacteristic candor, more being said in subtext than in just the words alone.

After hesitating for a moment, having caught the not-so-hidden message in Dean's statement, Bobby raised his glass and clinked it with the younger man's. "To family," he repeated softly.

They each downed their shots, and then Bobby quickly refilled the glasses. "Dean," the older hunter began. "About Sam…"

"What about him?" The concern was evident in the young hunters voice, eyes, even in the subtle straightening of his shoulders - as if waiting for some kind of physical blow. And, for Dean, what Bobby was about to tell him might just be equal to a sucker punch to the gut.

"Since you've been gone… well, I haven't been with him 24/7 or anything, but… I get the distinct feeling that he hasn't been eating properly or sleeping all that much, either."

"Yeah," Dean said softly, "I kinda figured that. If the dark circles under his eyes hadn't been enough of a giveaway, the loss of weight would've done it."

"You knew?"

Dean nodded.

"And you didn't do anything about it?"

"What am I supposed to do, Bobby?" Dean asked heatedly. "_Force_ him to talk to me?"

"Well, yeah. Sounds like a good idea to me." When Dean didn't respond further, choosing to simply stare into the amber liquid in his shot glass, Bobby continued but spoke more softly this time. "He's your brother, Dean. He needs you but he doesn't want to make things any harder for you than they already are."

"That's crazy, Bobby. I'm fine." Bobby gave him a disbelieving look. "I am. Honest. Some things happened while we were dream walking and… I'm fine, Bobby."

"Well, if that's true, I'm not the one you need t' be convincing, kid."

Dean gulped down the liquid courage in his shot glass. "You're right," he finally told the man, standing up from his chair. "G'night, Bobby. I think I've got some way overdue big brother duties to take care of."

* * *

Dean opened the door with the practiced ease of a hunter and crept into the dark, silent bedroom that he and Sam were sharing. He heard his little brother whimper and knew, even before his eyes adjusted to the darkness, that the younger Winchester was having yet another nightmare - had actually had one every night this week. And, with Sam's tendency to be frustratingly consistent with his guilt-induced dreams, Dean was willing to be it was the same nightmare each night.

The older brother had swallowed his protective instincts out of respect for what his brother was going through and hadn't forced Sam to tell him about the dreams. But, that was when Dean had thought Sam would get past them once he got used to the fact that Dean was out of hell and back home - thanks to said little brother... and dad, of course. He sat on the edge of Sam's bed and placed his hand on the quivering shoulder.

_Jess on the ceiling. Her blood dripping on his forehead. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. Her eyes filled with the torture that her voice was unable to express._

_Sam standing in the doorway of his father's hospital room - "Go to hell," he said vehemently to the older man._

_John laying on a hospital gurney. Doctors and nurses surrounding him, performing the usual life saving procedures. Dean leaning against the doorjamb in front of Sam. Then: "Time of death, 10:41am."_

_The Yellow-Eyed Demon feeding his blood to an infant Sammy. Mary Winchester on the ceiling above his crib. Her blood dripping onto his infant-self's forehead. _

_Dean screaming with excruciating anguish. Writhing in agony. Blood spurting from his chest and arteries. Sam holding his brother's corpse in his arms, trying desperately to not look into the sightless eyes but unable to stop himself._

_Dean hooked to numerous heavy chains. Screaming Sam's name over and over again. Begging his brother to help him._

Sam sat bolt upright - straight into his brother's arms. First, he melted into the embrace, relishing in the strength and warmth they provided, his face buried against the warm chest. Dean rubbed small circles on his back with one hand, grasping the back of his neck firmly with the other. But, as soon as Sam got his wits about him, he pulled away, almost knocking Dean off the bed in the process.

"Dude, what the hell," the older brother demanded, as he fought to keep his balance.

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam said in a pre-emptive strike, forcing the sleepiness from both his mind and his voice.

"A nightmare every night for a week does not equate to being fine. Talk to me, man."

Sam's laugh was mirthless. "What happened to no chick-flick moments?"

"I'm willing to make an exception in this case."

The younger Winchester's heart warmed in reaction to his brother's words, and he blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall. Needing to get out from under Dean's piercing stare, which seemed yet again to be cutting right through to his soul - how does he _do_ that? - Sam disentangled himself from his sheets and jumped to his feet. "Forget it, Dean. You're the one who was in hell," he stated, stalking over to the window.

"So? What's your point?"

Sam spun around to face his brother, feeling his emotions were safe at this distance; _hoping_ they were safe. "My point, Dean? My point?!"

"Is there an echo in here?" Dean muttered under his breath.

"My point is," Sam continued as if his older brother hadn't even spoken, "_I_ should be comforting _you_, Dean. Not the other way around!"

In the moonlight, the older Winchester was able to see the tears pooling in his brother's eyes. From frustration, sure. But Dean was just as sure that there was more to it than that. "From what I remember, you _already_ comforted me, Sam. In here," he added, pointing to his own head, thankful for the cover of darkness so that Sam wouldn't be able to see the slight blush burning his cheeks. In response to his brother's silence, Dean sighed loudly. He stood and started pacing, running his hands through his hair. Then, he turned to face his little brother who was practically falling apart before his eyes - he was trying to be strong, sure, but Dean had always been able to see through Sam's set jaw and piercing gaze. He took a step closer to his little brother. "You just don't get it, do you?"

"Get what," Sam asked, his voice thick with pent up emotion.

"Okay, listen carefully, college boy. Because this is Dean Psych 101 and it's a one time only class!"

"Dean -- "

"Remember all those times when we were kids? When Dad didn't come home when he was supposed to from a hunt?

Sam nodded mutely, chewing on his lower lip to both keep himself from speaking as well as to keep his tears at bay. He leaned back against the window sill, folding into himself, determined to be strong for his brother. Flashes of his most recent, horrific and relentlessly repetative nightmare came unbidden to his mind. _Jess. Dad. Mom. Dean_. So much death that Sam hadn't been able to stop. Even when he'd been given the chance to stop it. With Mom, he'd been just a baby. With Jess, he hadn't been able - or willing - to believe his dreams because he hadn't known at that point that they were prophetic. Dean had told him repeatedly that neither of those deaths had been his fault and he finally got to the point where he believed him… that is, until ol' Yellow Eyes had filled him on a few little secrets. Then their dad had died, and the last words he'd said to him were in anger. But, with his brother, Sam had had a year, a solid year, to come up with a way to save him - and failed! He'd failed his brother. And, because of that failure, Dean had suffered torture that Sam couldn't even begin to fathom; had screamed over and over again for his little brother, the one person he loved more than anything else in the world, to save him! Sam felt bile rising in his throat but fought it back, not wanting to show any weakness in front of his brother. He forced himself back to the present and was disconcerted to find Dean positioned next to him, leaning against the sill, shoulders touching.

"I mean," Dean continued, "sometimes he'd be _days_ behind schedule. You were so scared that he was hurt or worse. I would always distract you with movies, books… I'd even play with your crazy toy soldiers just so that you wouldn't be scared." At this moment, Dean locked eyes with his little brother. "What you didn't know was that I was scared too, Sam. Each and every time. But do you know what got me through? Helping you, Sammy. That's what's always gotten me through this crazy ass life we live." He paused for effect. "Dude, I know you're just trying to protect me but you don't have to. I'm honestly fine. Because of you, Sammy. Because of what happened in my dream. It's my turn to help you now. If you'll let me. Please, Sammy," Dean said beseechingly, placing his hand on the back of Sam's neck once again, feeling his brother subconciously lean into the touch.

The younger Winchester wanted so much to just let his big brother fix everything but there was a war going on inside him. Dean was so damn selfless, had always been Sam's hero, and Sam had always let him. But it was just too much this time. He'd gone to hell for him, for pity sake. Wasn't that enough? When would Dean be able to stop giving of himself all the time? _'Sam? Sammy! Help me!'_ The bile rose in his throat once again but, this time, he was unable to force it back down.

Putting one hand over his mouth, Sam ran for the bathroom, not realizing that Dean was right at his heels. Kneeling in front of the toilet, the younger brother leaned over the rim, but he had nothing in his stomach and the dry heaves quickly brought the tears back to his eyes. He felt Dean crouch down behind him, placing one hand on his forehead, supporting his awkward position over the toilet; then, he placed his other hand on Sam's stomach, rubbing small soothing circles, much the same as he had done all those years ago, when they were kids.

Sam couldn't say when the heaves turned into sobs but before he knew what was happening, he found himself enveloped in his big brother's strong embrace. He fought urgently to free himself but Dean was having none of it, he just held Sam against his chest tighter than ever. After a few moments of fervent struggle, Sam finally gave in. His arms slowly came up around his brother's back and waist, clinging desperately to the cloth of his t-shirt. "I'm sorry, Dean," he cried, voice muffled by Dean's shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

They both knew that Sam wasn't just apologizing for the tears, although that was definitely part of it; he was also apologizing for not being able to save Dean from his deal, for not being able to save him from the pit.

Dean's arms tightened around his little brother's shoulders. "It's okay, Sammy. It's okay, I've got you. I'm back now, okay? I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. But you gotta let this guilt go, kiddo. You gotta let it go."

Instead of responding, Sam just sobbed even harder against Dean's chest and shoulder. "I missed you so much," he whispered, his voice weary and broken.

"Me too, little brother. Me too."

Deciding to just ride it out, the older Winchester simply held his brother until the sobs subsided. After a long while, the tears stopped, as well, and the hitched breaths became more even. Dean knew Sam had fallen asleep, so, he carefully slipped the towel off the rack above him, bunched it up into a make-shift pillow, and placed it between his head and the wall. Then, he settled back for the long haul, not wanting to risk waking Sam up by trying to move him. Because, the kid needed both the sleep and the contact. And, there was no way Dean was letting a 'no chick flick' rule stop him from giving his brother what he so desperately needed.

The End, kinda...

_A/N Okay, second alternate ending will be up this weekend, hopefully tomorrow night but maybe not til Sunday. Please revuew, let me know what you think? Thanks so much for reading. _Kelcor


	9. Dean's Grief

_a/n Okay, just to reiterate, this is not a continuation to chapter eight. It's an alternate ending. In chapter eight, Dean remembered everything from the dream walking so he knew he was safe. This chapter is based on what it would've been like if he didn't remember. Hope you enjoy! Please review? _Kelcor

_A/N II My apologies for any mistakes but I will go through it and edit tomorrow. For now, I have to go to bed - still sick and have to work tomorrow. But, I promised I would have it up today, so here it is. I hope you'll forgive any errors, typos, etc._

CHAPTER NINE - DEAN'S GRIEF

It had taken half an hour before Dean's temperature had finally dropped back down to normal. Two hours later and Sam was still sitting on the edge of the mattress, holding his brother's hand, silently pleading - and, yes, even praying - for Dean to wake up. Bobby had tried to bring him some food once or twice but Sam just hadn't been able to eat. All he could think of was his big brother and how he couldn't possibly handle losing him again!

The younger Winchester closed his eyes and concentrated on his brother's breathing and the warmth of his hand clasped firmly in his own, the only indications that the other man was alive. After a few moments, the breathing changed. It went from slow and even, to short and hitched. Sam's eyes flew open and he stared down at his brother. _Is he having a nightmare? _Sam wondered to himself.

* * *

Dean felt himself slip back to consciousness but he refused to open his eyes. How could he be sure this was real? He remembered snippets of being with Sam but not being able to see him or hear him. Other than that, all he could remember was pain, torture, agony, and… Dad? No way. That part had to be a dream, or another trick. Their were numerous occasions in which the Demons had made Dean think that he was free, that he was back with his brother, driving the Impala, fighting evil… there was even a couple times when they made him believe that his whole life had been nothing but a dream; Mom and Dad were alive, Sam was in school but came home to visit every chance he got, Dean had graduated from the Police Academy - that should have been his first clue that something just wasn't right - and, most importantly, the Yellow Eyed Demon had never existed, evil had never encroached itself into their lives.

Every single time, just when Dean was starting to get comfortable with his surroundings, to trust that it was real, everything would be ripped away from him - leaving him broken and alone once again.

He felt a warm hand on his chest; another ghosting through his hair. Then, Sam's voice, "It's okay, big brother. I've got you. You're home now."

Dean wanted so much to believe it. His heart actually ached with the longing for these whispered words to be true, but he couldn't allow himself to trust his mind again because his mind was no longer his own; it belonged to Lilith, to all the Demons living in the pit.

* * *

Sam felt his brother's heart beat racing beneath his palm. He looked closely at his brother's face - no Rapid Eye Movement. This was honest-to-goodness fear. He ran his hand through Dean's hair in an attempt to soothe him, and kept his hand on his chest to ground him, to pull him back from wherever his mind was taking him.

"It's okay, big brother," he whispered softly. "I've got you. You're home now."

The lone tear making it's way down the side of Dean's face did not go unnoticed. Sam captured it with his thumb before it was able to settle into his brother's hair.

"Open your eyes for me, Dude. Please? I need to know you can see and hear me. I need to know that you're better."

Real or not, Dean had never been able to deny his brother when he used that voice. He slowly opened his eyes and stared at the sure-to-be-apparition claiming to be his brother - and did his best not to react to the big toothy grin that greeted him. And, just like every other time, his breath caught in his chest at the sight of his little brother.

"Hey," Sam said softly. "How ya' feelin'?"

Dean remained silent, figuring if he didn't speak, he wouldn't bond - and if he didn't bond, it wouldn't hurt as much when it all ended… because it always, always ended.

* * *

It was a week later and Dean still hadn't spoken. He could definitely see. And, he always reacted when someone spoke to him or walked into the room. He just hadn't _said_ _anything_. Sam was convinced that, although they'd been able to get his hearing and sight back, they'd failed when it came to his voice. After a while, the younger was positive that Dean had abandoned his own mission to save Sam, when they were in the dream walk and is big brother had come soaring to his little brother's rescue. Sam mentally kicked himself now for not asking said big brother if he'd been able to find and cure the cause for the loss of his voice before retaking his role as the one-man-cavalry.

Dean had seemed despondent the entire time they had spent at Bobby's, so Sam had decided that they should hit the road again; maybe the time driving in his baby would be just what Dean needed to get out of his funk. Truth be told, Sam was actually feeling down in the dumps, as well. He missed the sound of his brother's voice. The wisecracks, the brotherly teasing - he'd even come to miss their arguments. But, he still had his brother back. That's what he had to concentrate on. Lilith may have won a single battle, but she hadn't won the war. Dean was back where he belonged and there was no way Sam was ever gonna let him go again… No _freakin'_ way!

The trip in the Impala did seem to brighten Dean's mood but the improvement was short lived - possibly because Sam didn't let Dean drive for very long. He just didn't want his brother to over do it so soon after his ordeal. And, yeah, maybe the younger Winchester _was_ being a little over protective, but he figured he had the right to be. After all, not only had his brother just been brought back from Hell, he'd also had to fight various demons inside his head to get all of his senses back… _Well, most of 'em, anyway, _Sam thought dejectedly.

Dean found himself starting to believe more and more that this was real; that he was back with his little brother, sitting behind the wheel of the Impala - for a little while, anyway - but quickly stopped himself because he knew that that was exactly when it would end. And, as much as Dean hated to be tricked again, he didn't want the time with Sam to end. He just couldn't bear for his brother to be taken away from him again.

Sam pulled into a motel early that first evening away from Bobby's. Dean had started to look more and more depressed and the younger Winchester thought he had finally figured out what to do to help him. Well, he hoped he had, anyway.

He let Dean hop in the shower first. As soon as the door was shut, Sam pulled a local phone book out of the nightstand. He made a few calls, asked a few questions and, before he heard Dean turn off the shower, Sam had found what he was looking for. He didn't miss the look of surprise on Dean's face when the older Winchester exited the bathroom but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, so Sam just dismissed it as being a product of the over active imagination that Dean was always teasing him about.

Once Sam was showered and ready, he came out of the bathroom and watched his brother for a moment - sprawled out on one of the beds, flipping through the channels on the small, extremely out of date, black and white television. Sam went over and hit Dean's foot lightly with one hand.

"C'mon, get your shoes on."

Dean looked at him, eyebrows up to his hairline.

"We're goin' out," Sam continued, laughing when he was rewarded with an even more perplexed expression on his brother's face. "What? You wanna be cooped up inside for another night?"

Dean shook his head hesitantly, clearly unsure of what was happening.

"Then, hurry up. Let's go, big brother."

The older Winchester got up slowly off the bed, put his boots on and grabbed his jacket, giving Sam quizzical glances throughout the entire process.

Their first stop was a vintage record store. The look in Dean's eyes reminded Sam of a kid at Christmas time. He followed behind, watching his big brother pick out tapes from some of his favourite classic rock bands, occasionally contributing his own choices into the growing pile - an act which earned him another look of surprise, which Sam wasn't able to dismiss as easily this time. _Is he really that surprised that I'm doing this for him? Is it just because I'm expressing an interest in the same music? Or, is there something more?_ The boys paid for the tapes and left the store. Dean wanted to get in the Impala right away so that he could listen to their most recent purchases but Sam led him around to the back of the car instead. The younger took the bag of tapes from his brother and deposited them into the trunk. He then steered his increasingly confused brother back around the car and down the street, until they finally stopped half a block away at a… pub??

Sam ordered for both of them for obvious reasons. Besides, he already knew what Dean would most want to eat - cheeseburger, extra onions, no pickles, fries on the side and, of course, an ice cold beer. When he saw Dean watch the waitress' hips sway as she walked back to the kitchen to get their orders, Sam had no doubt that his big brother would eventually emerge out of his funk .

After they finished their meals, they ordered a few more beers, and simply enjoyed each other's company. Well, Sam enjoyed Dean's company, anyway. He wasn't all that sure what was going through Dean's head. One minute, his brother would look like he was having fun, enjoying the music, the beer, possibly even the companionship of his brother; the next minute, he looked wary, almost fearful. The younger Winchester watched silently as Dean got up and went to the bathroom. Looking at his watch, Sam left their table to find the waitress to get the tab totalled up so they could head back to the motel. He still didn't want Dean over doing it just yet.

Dean took care of his business. As he washed his hands, he looked at himself in the mirror. _Maybe this is real. I mean, the vintage store? Sammy picking out tapes, too? Now, my favourite food and beer? Am I really home? Am I really back with Sammy? _For the first time since opening his eyes and seeing Sam a week ago, Dean finally allowed himself to believe this wasn't a trick. He smiled at his reflection and then quickly left the bathroom to find his little brother… and felt his heart plummet when he returned to an empty table. _No-no-no-no-no! Not again! No! _He stumbled out of the bar, dreading what always came next; the chains, the torture, the claws, the teeth. He ran aimlessly across the parking lot and down the street, in a vain attempt to escape the coming storm.

He had no idea how long he had been running but he could barely breathe when he finally stopped. He was confused. He didn't know why They hadn't come for him yet. They always show up immediately after the deception is revealed because They enjoy seeing him break. One thing Dean _did_ know was that he couldn't let his guard down. They could show up at any minute; any second, even.

After catching his breath, he glanced at his surroundings and realized that he'd somehow ended up back at their motel. Looking to his left, he saw that the Impala was still parked in the lot. _This isn't the way it usually happens. What the hell is goin' on? _Well, if They weren't going to come to him, he would go to them! He was tired of running. Dean Winchester didn't run, dammit! He marched up to the door but, before he could even try the knob, Sam came barrelling out of the room, smacking into Dean on his way to the Impala. Dean was too shocked to do anything more than gape at him, especially when he saw the tears in Sam's eyes. _It's too soon._ _He's never come back before. Not before the torture. This breaks the routine. This is weird. This isn't right. _

"Dean!? Where have you been? I've been lookin' all over for you, man! Why did you leave the bar? You scared the hell outta me!" Sam paused, waiting for an answer from his brother, then remembered his brother's current circumstances. He grabbed the older Winchester by the elbow and hauled him into the room. Once inside, Sam checked him over for any kind of injury. It was when his eyes settled on his brother's still shell-shocked face, however, that Sam finally figured out what was wrong. _Why didn't I see this before? He told me in the white room that they had tricked him into thinking he was seeing me, and dad, and mom. Has he been thinking this whole time that it's not real? That I'm some kind of cruel trick that the demons are playing on him? _He placed a hand firmly on each of his brother's shoulders. "Dude. This isn't a trick, okay? I'm not going anywhere. I promise." Sam could see Dean fighting with his emotions - and losing.

"Sammy?" Dean finally said, his voice rough from lack of use.

It was now Sam's turn to look shell-shocked. He stood before his brother, slack jawed, eyes wide. "Dean? You can speak?"

The older Winchester nodded.

"I thought… I thought we'd failed. That we'd been able to get your sight and your hearing back but that you had saved me from Lilith instead of finding out how she had taken away your speech."

Then everything came back to him. Sam in his dreams, the two of them fighting Lilith side by side, his little brother saving him from himself over and over again. "Sammy," Dean said, a statement instead of a question this time. He still fought to control his emotions, however, because he was Dean Winchester and Dean Winchester never crumbles. He desperately tried to put his game face on but, as soon as he felt Sam's arms around him, he sensed that resolve weakening. Dean struggled to get free, even as he simultaneously longed for the contact.

Sam felt his brother try to push him away but he just held him tighter. "I'm here, big brother. I've got you. I've got you."

Those three statements finally broke the dam. Dean's tears fell, his sobs shook him to his very core. Seemingly of their own accord, his arms wrapped around his brother waist and clenched at the cotton shirt at his back, his sobs muffled by Sam's shoulder. His legs buckled and the arms around him tightened, taking his weight until they were sitting on the floor, with Dean laying sideways across his little brother's legs, his head resting in the crook of Sam's arm. "I'm sorry, Sammy. Don't… leave," Dean found himself pleading. "Please, just don't… leave…."

"I'm not going anywhere, big brother," Sam soothed, rocking his brother slightly, running his hand through his hair. "I promise. I'm not going anywhere."

And, as Sam cradled even closer to his chest, Dean realized he completely believed him. He finally believed his torture was over… and the healing had begun.

THE END


End file.
